Miss Macabre
by ScarletHand2
Summary: The next life came faster than Axel had expected. But in this afterlife, is everything really as perfect as it seems? Can Mischa and Axel finally be together, no strings attached? ...The sequel to Miss Melancholy. AxelxOC
1. Angels on the Moon

Author's Note: I decided to write a sequel to Miss Melancholy because, upon rereading the ending, I found that it was a bit…abrupt. Hopefully, though, this story will help tie up some loose ends as far as Axel and Mischa's relationship goes.

This isn't really a chapter, because it's too short, but I wasn't sure what else to call it. ^_^

* * *

Miss Macabre

Book Two

---

Do you dream that the world will know your name?  
So tell me your name.  
And do you care about all the little things, or anything at all?  
I wanna feel, all the chemicals inside, I wanna feel.  
I wanna sunburn, just to know that I'm alive,  
To know I'm alive.

Don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna know.  
If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go.  
Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon,  
Where everyone you know never leaves too soon.

Do you believe in the day that you were born?  
Tell me, do you believe?  
And do you know that everyday's the first of the rest of your life?

Don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna know.  
If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go.  
Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming, of angels on the moon,  
Where everyone you know never leaves too soon.

This is to one last day in the shadows,  
And to know a brother's love.  
This is to New York City angels,  
And the rivers of our blood.  
This is to all of us, to all of us.

So don't tell me if I'm dying, 'cause I don't wanna know.  
If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go.  
Don't wake me cause I'm dreaming of angels on the moon,  
Where everyone you know never leaves too soon

Yeah, you can tell me all your thoughts  
About the stars that fill polluted skies;  
And show me where you run to  
When no one's left to take your side.  
But don't tell me where the road ends,  
'Cause I just don't wanna know,  
No I don't wanna know.

Don't tell me if I'm dying,  
Don't tell me if I'm dying,  
Don't tell me if I'm dying.

---

_I had always thought that I had belonged here, in Yoroido; that this was where I would exist, forever and ever._

_Now, I'm not so sure._

_I remember once, when I was very little, my mother had walked me (and my little wooden bucket) down to the beach near our home. I had plopped my little self down in the sand far enough away from the water and proceeded to make a sandcastle. My mother watched me from afar as I scooped the sand with my bare hands into my bucket, packed it down until it was _just right_, and then turned it upside-down to create a tower. It had taken me the entire day to make, and it had looked quite nice, I thought; but as the sun slowly sunk into the sea, its great rays had pushed the waves farther up the beach and washed my precious sandcastle away. I had cried; not because I had worked so hard on it, but because what I had thought was permanent really wasn't all that permanent, after all. My mother had told me that it was all right, that I could just make another one tomorrow, and this time she'd help me; but the deed was done. I had realized then that nothing could last forever; that everything is swept away eventually, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell of what it once was, of the beauty it once contained._

_Through my experiences, I've found that this is as true as the nose on my face; though maybe not quite as obvious. I have seen that pain, anguish, change, and love is what life is all about, and to wish for it to be any other way is a wasted effort. Most importantly, however, I've learned that memories never fade, no matter how hard time tries to whisk them away._

_Oh, Axel, how I wish there was some way we could be together now…_

---

The sun was in an especially happy mood today. Its rays shone blessed light on every surface in the tiny sea village of Yoroido, creating an illusion of brightness in the town square. The white cement between each individual stone that made up the flooring glowed, as if some majestic light were just underneath the ground and the floor was just eager to burst into a million little pieces. The square itself was busy today; there were women with baskets in hand walking from one tiny shop to another, bright smiles on their faces, as if they had not a care in the world. They stopped now and then to chat with each other, sharing whatever gossip the tiny town managed to have.

"Have you heard?" one woman was saying to another woman while purchasing some apples. She dropped a few coins into the palm of the man behind the cart and brushed her sheet of jet-black hair behind her shoulder. "The Tatsuyo girl is going to be married!"

"Mischa-san?" asked the other one, looking at her friend curiously. "Good Lord, Amaka-kun. Is she that old already?"

The black-haired woman, Amaka, nodded grimly, her green eyes unblinking. "She's reaching her twentieth year quite soon, dear Chiyo-san. It's about time she was handed off to somebody, anyway; especially since she keeps refusing to follow in Kikisui's footsteps and become a geisha."

"It's too late for that, though, isn't it?" said Chiyo thoughtfully. She had hair the same dark color as her friend's, though her eyes were lighter and somehow nicer. "The school would never accept someone her age."

Amaka shrugged. "Who knows? Kikisui could easily get her in, I'm sure." They had begun walking towards the fountain in the middle of the square and then sat down together on the stone bench in front of it. "It'll be good for her, I'm sure. To finally have a husband, I mean."

The other woman's voice dropped to a whisper. "Does Mischa-san know yet?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know. I was just talking to Kikisui yesterday; that's how I know."

Chiyo shook her head and made a "tut-tut" sound. "That would be a shame if she didn't know. This is her life–"

Amaka suddenly brought her index finger to Chiyo's lips, shushing her. With her other hand she pointed to the ruins of a stone trellis at the entrance of the town square. Leaning weakly against the crumbled gray rock was the subject of their conversation, her back to the two women. She was staring out at the sun, which was currently situated somewhere above the ocean, its rays silhouetting her body and the remnants of the trellis.

"Perhaps she does know," murmured Chiyo.

The shadow stretching on the ground behind Mischa's body had nothing compared to the shadow on her once-beautiful face, despite the intensity of the sunlight that danced upon it. Her blue eyes were dark with sadness, a deep purple color just under them from lack of sleep. Her lips were dry and cracked, and her skin looked sickly pale. The beautiful light-blue kimono used to bring out the color in her eyes, but now it hung limply from her thin shoulders, the _obi_ tied carelessly around her tiny waist.

"Kikisui _did_ mention the girl's recent lapse into depression," Amaka added unnecessarily.

"I wonder what happened?" inquired Chiyo of no one in particular. "Poor thing; she looks so thin…"

"Thin" was an understatement. Mischa lifted her hand for a moment to slowly brush some of her lank brown hair out of her face, and both women cringed to see long, thin white fingers and quite visible bones under the thin stretch of skin.

"Oh, dear me," muttered Amaka, taken aback. "Never have I seen anything as pitiful as that poor creature, in all my years on this earth!"

"Keep your voice down, Amaka," hissed Chiyo reproachfully. "It will only make her feel worse to hear that."

"I suppose," she amended. "There must be some sort of reason, though. A beautiful, healthy young girl does not turn out like _that_-" she gestured towards Mischa's lifeless body -"for no reason."

But there was a reason. And, oh, what a reason it was.

About two weeks ago (though it may have been more; she had lost count by the first day), she had stepped off an orange space ship and onto the village sand. The ship (affectionately called the "Gummi Ship"), which had been capable of traveling to other realms and dimensions, had disappeared the moment she had set foot onto solid ground. What hadn't disappeared, however – and she was so sure at the time that they would – were her memories.

This was an abnormal phenomenon, she was sure. The point of Sora's – she cringed whenever she thought his name – mission was to retain the borders of each world. Basically, he had to make sure the people on each world did not know that people on other worlds existed. To do this, he had needed to use his weapon, his Keyblade, to lock up the Doors on each world. And, since her weapon had also been the Keyblade, it had naturally been her disposition to lock up Yoroido's Door.

Apparently, though, she had failed. For thoughts of darkness and memories of adventures past still blanched her mind, leaving no color for her to take happiness from.

No one could know about this, though. No one was ever supposed to know; and if they did, they were to forget about it.

She wondered if Sora remembered anything. Or Donald, or Goofy, or Kairi and Riku, or even the King himself. If only there was a way to find out…

"Mischa, dear!"

Kikisui Tatsuyo was trotting up the road, waving to her daughter's hapless figure. Her long, black hair waved like a flag in the breeze and shone like water in the sunlight. She looked almost as young as her daughter did, despite her age of forty-eight and Mischa's of nineteen. Chiyo and Amaka tittered enviously as she approached, gracefully placing Mischa's bony hand in the crook of her arm and sliding her away.

"Now, honestly," muttered Amaka disapprovingly as Kikisui floated back down the road, dragging Mischa along with her. "She really needs to act her own age."

"Who?" asked Chiyo absently, staring after the lovely woman with a kind of awed reverence.

"Both of them." Amaka rolled her eyes at her friend's hazy countenance. "Kikisui quit being a geisha almost twenty years ago; she needs to find a hobby already that doesn't involve making her hair shinier. And Mischa-san, she should have been betrothed years ago!"

"Hmm," murmured Chiyo in response. She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "Who is the lucky man for Mischa?"

Amaka shook her head. "I don't know. Kikisui said that Mischa will meet him for dinner tonight."

She sighed sadly. "The poor dear."

Amaka looked at her, puzzled. "Pardon?"

"Think about it, Amaka-san. She is terribly depressed, and she is betrothed to a man she has never met. The girl is probably in love with someone else."

Amaka considered this, staring after Mischa and her mother's retreating figures. "She is not in any position to choose who she marries, though. Not while her parents are still living."

Chiyo nodded slowly, undeterred. "I have a bad feeling."

* * *

Author's Note: Sadly, I haven't written this one in advance like _Melancholy_, so the next chapter will have to wait. :( In this story I'm planning on having a chapter or two in both Mischa and Axel's points of views, and I'm probably going to bring quite a few characters back. Should be interesting. :) Ta-ta for now!

btw- the theme song is "Angels on the Moon" by Thriving Ivory.


	2. Thoughts of a Dying Firebrand

Author's Note: I wrote this chapter pretty quickly because it was so fun writing through Axel's point of view. This explains a lot about him in Miss Melancholy, where it wasn't quite clear what his true intentions were most of the time.

(On a side note, the story is rated T because of Axel's use of mild cursing and questionable past experiences.)

* * *

**Axel**

I never really gave much thought to how I would die…or to where I'd end up afterwards. Though, I guess, it's kind of hard to die when you never really existed in the first place.

I don't remember much about my life. Well, my human life, anyway. I'm guessing I was probably one of those losers who smoke weed and date girls for a living. I'd probably set a gas station on fire in the middle of the night with a careless flick of a cigarette, and then my body was engulfed in the ensuing flames.

Wait, no. That won't work. Nobodies don't get to be this handsome by being charred alive and smoked like a marshmallow over a fire pit. I had probably run away before the gas tanks exploded; hey, maybe the drugs hadn't fried too many of my brain cells yet!

I probably had a black, beat-up Chevy convertible with flames painted on either side. Aww man.

There was probably some chick in the car with me that I'd completely forgotten about until it was too late. After the car blew up, I was probably so grief-stricken at what I'd done to the girl that I grabbed something sharp and stabbed myself.

That would explain that crazy scar I somehow have on my chest. I must have really been pissed. I must've cut out my own heart or something. Not that I can imagine feeling that strongly about some random girl.

Now that I think about it, there were probably Heartless involved. There had to have been, for my heart to be taken. Maybe it wasn't really an accident, after all; maybe I'd been so desperate to make the Shadows go away that I blew the damn place up on purpose.

Oh well. This is all hypothetical. If I can't remember anything from that life, then it doesn't matter, anyway.

I do remember my life as a Nobody, though. Saïx found me wandering around a warehouse, trying to figure out where the hell I was and wondering why I was suddenly wearing black robes. I remember waking up with total amnesia in this dark place with boxes everywhere and Styrofoam peanuts all over the ground. I almost slipped on a few of those little bastards. Then I saw the door open and this dude with blue hair came striding in like he owned the place. (He probably did, too, and has since then begged Xemnas to keep it under wraps for his own sake. I love causing Saïx pain and discomfort.) He pulled out his big blue claymore and started attacking me with it; I'd been surprised to find that I had a weapon of my own: the ability to summon fire by will, and my trusty pair of chakhram. Saïx had seemed pretty surprised at that, too, and he asked me to join some Organization he and his buddies had formed. I sort of shrugged and said okay; I didn't have anywhere else to go, anyway.

We had left the warehouse and I looked around to find that I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. The sky was totally dark, and there were tall buildings and glowing neon signs everywhere. It was sort of cramped, too; not like those cities where there are cars driving around and everything. It was eerie, but I wasn't afraid; I actually felt as though I belonged there. What really struck me as odd was the moon; there was the outline of one high up in the sky, but it was heart-shaped; not round like normal moons. It looked pretty empty to me, and I'd wondered why.

Saïx told me that the place we were in was called the World That Never Was, and that he was taking me to its castle. We reached a dead end of the street, and it was then that I laid eyes on the castle for the first time. It looked completely out of place: a huge white castle in the middle of a city. It was floating, too; just floating in the middle of nowhere. Saïx lifted his hand and this bridge seemed to form out of this swirly bright stuff; he told me to follow him and onward we walked, into the strange castle.

The inside of the place was a designer's nightmare: white, white, and more white. It was kind of nice, though, compared to the darkness of the city outside. Saïx led me to yet another white room with seven super-tall white chairs, almost like thrones, formed in a circle. As I walked over the threshold of the doorway, an eighth chair sprung up out of nowhere, like a plant growing rapidly out of the ground. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in this chair, looking up at somebody with long gray hair and dark red eyes.

He explained to me that I was now a Nobody: someone with no feelings or emotions. That was a low-blow for me. He also explained the goal behind Organization XIII, which was to find a way for us Nobodies to have their own hearts. I stopped listening after that; as bad as it sounded when I first heard it, I had realized that since I didn't know anybody in that world yet, it wouldn't matter whether I could like them or not.

Once I met Roxas, though, my opinion on that matter changed. I wanted a heart. I wanted to feel true friendship. I wanted to feel ashamed when he berated me on setting the TV on fire for the fourth time that week. I wanted to feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins when we played pranks on the sleeping members on the Organization in the middle of the night. (You definitely don't want to wake up Xaldin during the night; he has six lances, remember, and man, do they hurt!) Basically, I wanted to feel.

That was when I started to get really serious about the goals of the Organization. I was Number Eight; I had to keep Numbers Nine through Thirteen in shape. I knew what that snake Larxene and Marluxia (affectionately called "Marley-boo" by me and Roxas and Demyx) were up to, so I was determined to sabotage their attempts to overthrow the Org. No way were they taking _my_ heart. I deserved it more than anybody else there did.

There's also something else I remember about being a Nobody; something very important. There was a girl that I'd met on one of my missions. I remember the world; it was this pretty little village on the beach called Yoroido. When I first saw it I thought it was a dump that smelled like rotting fish, but as I spent more time with her, I realized how beautiful it really was. She lived alone in this little cottage maybe fifty yards from the shore because her parents had died three years before. There was a pink cherry blossom tree in the front yard that always blew its flowers around in funky patterns when a breeze came in. I had liked that tree. She had a vegetable garden in the backyard that she was always in, picking stuff to make for dinner. She was a great cook, though I was never able to eat anything. I know this because before I actually met her I'd been watching her for a few days, observing her daily routine, and wondering why in the world Xemnas had chosen her for our experiment.

I finally confronted her on the beach one day, invisible to everyone except her. Leaning casually as usual against the jagged rock cliffs, I had whispered "psst" to get her attention. She'd been laying on the sand, arms and legs sprawled out like a windmill. She jumped up, shocked, and finally saw me. I hadn't realized how beautiful she really was until that moment when her bright blue eyes locked on mine. Her face was perfect; oval-shaped, and her skin was this ivory color that wasn't too white and wasn't too tan. Her hair was light brown, the color of coffee with milk; she always had half of it pulled up into a bun fastened with red chopsticks, half in a long braid down her back, and the rest hanging around her face. Her eyes were the color of a shallow sea in the sunlight, and she had the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

She was sweet, too. Always welcomed me into her house without question, never worried about what the other villagers thought when they saw me there with her. She wasn't afraid of me at all, and it surprised me how warm she was towards me. After a while I started to dread what I'd been designated to do to her: sacrificing her heart so that we could have ours. I had to bring her to the castle, and I tried to stall it for as long as I could. The day she took me to the meadow – our meadow, as I now refer to it as – was the day Heartless attacked her world. Xemnas had told me that she was a wielder of a Keyblade, so I led her to the beach, waiting for Sora to show up. When he did, we went out to fight the giant Heartless: a huge catfish that she called the Namazu. I learned then that she was afraid of going out to sea because that was how her parents had died; they had been on a boat that had been attacked by this creature, which had then been thought of as only a legend. She put on a brave face, though, and fought along with the rest of us. I always admired her for that. When she got badly hurt, I realized that my feelings for her weren't just affection, and I wondered how I could feel that way without having a heart.

I sent her away with Sora to be healed by that wizard in Radiant Garden, assuming that she would be safe from the Organization with him. It turned out, though, that they needed both her and Sora's heart to unleash Kingdom Hearts, and I realized with panic that I was practically delivering her right into their hands. But the Organization didn't trust me after my schemes with Larxene and Marluxia, and I needed to put on an act so that they would believe I was on their side. If I had her with me, they would know what I was really doing and it would blow everything. I was in a pretty difficult position at that point: I wanted two different things and it all had to remain a secret.

They came back to Yoroido and witnessed the darkness overtaking it; I had come because I knew that was where she would want to be. As soon as the doors to the ship had opened, she had run to me at top speed, almost knocking the wind out of me with her hug. As I held her close to me, I had gotten a strange feeling in my chest; almost as if my imaginary heart was fighting to be real.

After her world was destroyed, I let her stay with Sora for a bit to keep her safe, but then I received word that that nutty professor, DiZ, had kidnapped her. I knew why; he knew what Xemnas' plans were, and he also wanted revenge on him. It was the perfect plan; but not perfect for me, so I convinced Naminé to take her back to Sora. DiZ had showed up, though, trying to take her back, so I knew I had to intervene. She chose me over Sora, and I could tell he was somewhat hurt about that. But there was nowhere else I could take her where the Organization wouldn't find her, and Sora was on his way to the World That Never Was as it was. I had to take her to the castle, no matter how much it killed me to do so.

I know it hurt her to have me betray her like that; it hurt me just to know that I hurt a beautiful, innocent young girl like that. I had trouble looking at her, trapped in that pod, about to have her beautiful heart handed to her on account of my selfish motives. (The things Saïx did to her had shocked me; kidnapping her parents and making her think they were dead? I had no idea of this beforehand, and I really hoped that she had realized that.) So I talked to Naminé again, convincing her to take her away from the castle. What I didn't know was that when I had brought Kairi to the castle, Saïx had stuck her in a cell. Naminé took Kairi away instead of sticking to the plan, so I fought off Saïx and then took her along with me to help Sora enter the castle.

The number of Nobodies attacking us became so overwhelming, though, that I knew I had to make a split-second decision. I used my remaining power to kill 'em all, but it was all I had left to keep me alive. The last thing I remember before the darkness overcame me was her face above, tears spilling down her beautiful face and a watery smile keeping her alive in my eyes.

There's only one thing I don't remember about that special girl: her name. Which is really bothering me now, because if I cared about her as much as I remember, then why can't I remember her name?

Anyway. I now find myself in some sort of waiting room. I'm not exactly sure how long I've been here, nor where 'here' is, but something tells me I'm going to find out soon enough.

A door opened from somewhere to my left – wait, when did that door get here? – and I turned, excitement fizzing through me. Am I finally getting out of this place, wherever I am?

I was shocked to that it was not only a person – if you can call it that – but also someone I knew. His black and gray striped hair was pulled back into a braid, as usual, and his eye that wasn't obscured by an eye patch colored with resentment at the sight of me.

Ignoring this, I stood up and held out my arms in welcome. "Xiggy!" I exclaimed, a bright smile on my face.

Xigbar did not look as happy to see me as I was to see him. "Axel," he muttered, rolling his good eye. "Long time no see."

"I'll say!" I sat back down onto the white seat and patted the one next to me; he sat down reluctantly. "What have you been up to lately?"

He turned his head slowly to look at me, his face leaden with cynicism. "Oh, you know, the usual," he replied in mock casualness, his voice still as high and musky as I remembered it. "How 'bout you, man?"

I fought back a laugh; his voice made me half-expect him to say something like 'surf's up, dude!' "Oh, just hanging around," I answered easily. "You know how it is."

He nodded slowly, his eye's gaze locked on my face. It was beginning to creep me out a little. "No, man, I'm afraid I don't know."

Beads of sweat began to appear on the back of my neck, but I ignored them. I was not going to let a loser like Xigbar lecture me on my actions. No way, _man_. "Oh?"

"I seem to recall you putting Organization XIII into a bit of a pickle," he continued, still staring at me, "by letting that brat Sora into the castle."

I shrugged. "So?"

His eye narrowed a little. "He and his little friends just killed me."

"Which ones?" I asked nonchalantly, waiting for him to mention the girl whose name I was so desperate to remember.

"That dog with the shield, and that damn magical duck," he replied, rubbing an invisible wound on his forearm. "And I thought Larxene's lightning shocks were bad."

I said nothing. Xigbar seemed to take this as a hint.

"Saïx took the girl," he told me. "But she's a little spitfire, that one, so he'll probably have his butt handed to him and end up here soon enough."

I looked at him, shocked. "You know where we are?"

"Of course I know where we are," he said, rolling his good eye again. "We're in the Moyenne-Vie, where they decide whether we get to go onto the Afterlife or the Darkness."

I gulped down the anxious lump that was forming in my throat. "And, um, who's 'they'?"

The corner of Xigbar's lip lifted into a cunning smile. "The Magistral Court," he replied, smirking at me, "and them, too."

I looked at where he was gesturing, to the other side of the pure white room. On seats just like ours sat Larxene, Marluxia, Vexen, Zexion, and the other members who had been eliminated, all glaring at me.

"Oh, hell," I muttered. Well, why not? I was going there, anyway.

* * *

Author's Note: Heehee. I liked that last part. I'll try to get the next chapter up soonly. :)


	3. A Long Hallway with a Broken Light

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long; I've been…busy. Anyway, this one's through Mischa's point-of-view. :)  


* * *

**Mischa**

In a world of trout, I was a salmon.

I was the pink fish that stood out among the many normal grey fish in the stream. I was the fish who always swam upriver while everyone else zoomed past me, always one step ahead. I was the one who was spotted by the hungry bear and abandoned in my time of need; and then I was the one who escaped death and returned home, only to find that I still feel like I truly belong somewhere else.

I pondered this as I sat before my vanity table, staring at my reflection in the mirror, which was staring dismally back at me with blank eyes. Was this hideous creature really what I was; what I had become? How long will these memories continue to haunt me? When will it all just finally _end_?

My mother rapped me on my shoulder with the hairbrush she was using to "beautify" (as she affectionately put it) my hair. It wasn't making much of a difference, though; it was still as dull and lanky as it had become over the past few weeks. The day I had returned home, I had taken a kitchen knife and cut off my long, beautiful brown hair, until it lay just at my shoulder blades. It had grown back quickly, though not as attractive as it used to be.

"Smile, Mischa," she chided gently; she always spoke to me gently, as if she was afraid that I might break. "This is no time to feel sad. You're meeting your future husband tonight!"

"Hmm," I murmured in response. This subject had been bothering me since the moment my parents had presented it to me a few days ago. "What if," I began tentatively; my throat was dry, and my voice came out low and husky. "What if I don't necessarily _want_ to be married?"

I felt the brush stop moving in my hair. "Nonsense, Mischa," she replied after a long pause. "You are well past the age of betrothal."

"But," I argued, "shouldn't I at least have some say in the matter?" Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.

Her face appeared out from behind mine in the mirror. She stared at me long and hard, emotions ranging from disappointment to annoyance to pity on her face, looking as though she was truly seeing me for the first time. I wondered if maybe she was.

"Mischa," she said finally, her voice sounding very tired. "My beautiful dear. One day you will have to open your eyes and realize that life cannot always be what you wish it to be."

"_This_ life," I corrected her quietly. It was at that moment when I began to wonder whether I truly belonged here in Yoroido: a place where nothing changes and girls like me are handed off to strangers for marriage. I wanted out, but where could I go?

I stood up from my stool quickly and headed for the doorway out of my room.

"Where are you going?" my mother asked, sounding a little hurt. I turned my head to see her sitting with the brush still in her hand.

"A walk," I lied. Well, it wasn't really a lie; I was going to have to walk to my destination.

She nodded, unsurprised. "Dinner is around five, so be back an hour before."

I left before I could force a response out of my mouth. Maybe she was starting to understand. I needed to go somewhere before any of this stuff actually happened.

I shied away from the bright sunlight as I opened the front screen door and stepped onto the wooden porch. It creaked under me, despite my weight that was equivalent to that of a small chair, and I leaped off of it and onto the stone pathway, glad to be out of my house. My feet led me down the road, past the smiling villagers, and through the trees to a place that I hadn't been to in what felt like years. To my left was the small waterfall pool; ahead of me was the pink cherry blossom tree; and to my right was the grassy pasture of the meadow, all enclosed within the trees, all completely unchanged.

The last time I came here, there had been someone else with me, I realized as I tentatively sat down beneath the branches of the cherry tree. Someone very special in his own peculiar way. I do not dare say his name, though, for fear that it would be admitting that he's really gone. I never thought that I would feel this way, still hurting so much, when I came back to Yoroido on the Gummi Ship. That moment when I stood at his gravestone, I truly thought that I would be all right. Now, though, it feels as though my heart is constantly being wrung of any happiness, like a sponge full of water.

I leaned back against the reddish bark of the tree and stared up at the blue sky through the branches. Little pink flower petals obscured most of my view, so I simply closed my eyes and sighed. This cannot go on; these feelings and memories cannot haunt me any longer. As much as it will kill me to do so, I have to be married, and I have to pretend that I'm happy about it for my parents' sake. That is what I must do, and I will go through with it. I am not a free woman, nor can I ever hope to be.

I must have sat like that for a few hours, for when I opened my eyes again, there were clouds covering the sun and the sky had turned a few shades darker. I stood up slowly, not wanting to leave. I took a hesitant step forward, and suddenly was engulfed in a sensation of total coldness: as cold as a breeze in the wintertime. I shivered violently and pulled my arms back into the large sleeves of my kimono; the cold seemed to wind around my waist, and a tiny breeze blew at my left cheek, over my shoulder. As I instinctively hunched up my shoulders to the frost, I felt the slightest of whispers tickle my ear. It was a man's voice; it said, "always be with you."

I knew whose voice it was as soon as I heard it; it was him, the one who I was missing so desperately. He was holding me; he was speaking to me, telling me that it will be all right, that he is with me always, that I would never have to feel alone.

I felt a lock of my brittle hair bounce on my back.

"I chopped it off," I admitted sheepishly, guessing that he was wondering what I'd done to my hair. I heard his light, carefree laugh and a shiver that had nothing to do with the coolness of his spirit surrounding me ran down my spine.

The coldness moved to my forearm and I felt him give my wasted muscle a tiny squeeze. There was immediately an air of worry about us, and I realized that he was concerned about my health.

"Depression," I said by way of explanation. I suddenly remembered my parents at home, and what I would be facing when I went back. Warm tears formed in my eyes as I envisioned the hurt expression on his face when I tell him I am going to be married.

"I have…a lot going on in my life right now," I told him. I now refused to think of him as a spirit but as the actual person, standing with his arms wrapped securely around my waist and his cold nose nuzzling the side of my face. I could ignore the cold, as long as he was here. "I haven't been able to forget anything that…happened."

There was no response, and I feared that he had gone; but then there was a sudden rush of cold around me, and I felt reassured once more.

"Everything is clear and vivid in my mind," I went on, closing my eyes. "Which is nice in some ways, of course, but – "

"Hurt," he whispered in my ear.

I nodded slowly. "Yes, that's right." I exhaled slowly. "It seems as though every hurt feeling I had experienced is now being magnified."

I opened my eyes and looked up at the sun, which was peeking out from behind some clouds low in the sky; I had been out here for longer than I had anticipated. "I have to go back home now," I said sadly.

The cold became a little stronger, and I heard a few words: "see you soon". Then, quite suddenly, my body began to warm up.

Had I been in any other mindset, perhaps one more serious, I would have pondered what he was trying to tell me. "See you soon"; what did that mean? Was he somehow coming back? Or would I soon be joining him? My emotions were too strong, though, to be able to think rationally.

I squeezed through the tree branches and stepped over the roots of the tiny pathway leading to this meadow. The best thing about this place, I realized, was that it was my own. My mother was the only other person in Yoroido that knew of this place, and in a way, she had wordlessly given it to me.

The color of the sky was a mixture of lemon, tangerine, and apple; normally it would have made me hungry and hurry for home. I took my time today, though; mainly because I was terribly anxious of what – or rather, whom – I would have to face as I walked through the doorway. The sun was now a blur of red glowing through the dark tree branches all along the side of the narrow dirt road. Though the road was not very long, it felt to me as if I was walking down a long hallway with a broken light.

I turned the corner and stepped onto the lane that led down to the beach and my home. The scene before me was breathtaking: the sun was setting on the sea, which looked like it was on fire, and orange light poured on every surface around me.

I knew exactly how to describe it. It was a flurry of dancing flames.

---

"Stop fidgeting, Mischa; you're going to mess up your make-up."

To be truthful, I didn't much care about how my make-up looked. Nor my hair, nor my body, nor my clothing. I wanted to get this over with as soon as was humanly possible.

My mother impatiently positioned me in front of the glass mirror in my bedroom. "Now, hold still," she directed, lifting a strand of my hair into a curler. She then made a tut-ing sound with her tongue and shot me a disapproving glance in the mirror. "You need to take better care of your hair, _hime_. Just look at these split ends!"

She had always called me that – _hime_, the Japanese word for 'princess'. I could never tell her, though, the significance behind this childhood nickname. She could never know that I actually am a princess, one of the _kokoro_, or 'heart'. Knowing my mother, the first thing that would come to her mind upon hearing the word 'princess' would be jewels and fancy dresses. I would not consider my mother selfish, though; self-indulgent would be the better word. I was nothing like her in that respect; in fact, sometimes I wondered how in the world I ever ended up as her daughter, because the only things we have in common are our eloquence and our blue eyes.

There was a soft knock at the door to my small bedroom; I felt my mother jump a little in surprise behind me.

"Come in," I said calmly.

I warily watched the door slowly open behind us in the mirror, and then the reproach coloring my mother's eyes as she realized who it was. She stood up and spun around, her hands placed indignantly on her tiny waist, as my father poked his head from behind the door.

"You're not supposed to come in here!" my mother exclaimed; I could guess from her stance in the mirror that she was glaring at him. "She's not ready yet!"

My father accepted her scolding with a wan smile. "Kikisui, my love, I came in here only to tell you that the bridegroom has arrived."

My lungs suddenly felt frozen in my chest, and I gasped without meaning to. I saw both of their heads turn towards me in alarm and I quickly recomposed my face.

"Already?" I squeaked, barely moving my lips. He was here, _here_; my future husband was here in my home, right this moment, probably sitting in the exact same spot as the one who truly held my heart once did. This man can never fill that spot, though; I do not think that anyone ever will.

My mother laughed and cupped her warm hands around my face, staring at me in the mirror with what was evidently supposed to be a soothing smile. "Oh look, honey. Our baby girl is nervous!"

My father said nothing, but watched me calmly in the mirror.

"Oh, well, don't worry, my dear," my mother continued, pulling the curlers out of my hair. "You look wonderful, and I'm sure you'll love him."

My father made a little noise, but my mother had apparently not heard it. She checked my appearance in the mirror once more, then her own; she then shot me a big grin and thumbs-up sign and hurried out of the room. As I was rising from my vanity stool I heard her shriek, and I smiled, knowing that she thought the man to be good-looking.

I looked down at my kimono. I had originally chosen my least favorite for tonight, to wordlessly show my mother that I was unhappy with the night's progressions, but she would hear none of it. Instead, she dressed me, much like a doll, in a stunning light blue kimono, with silk white fabric near the hem to represent clouds and a swirl of gold sparkle fabric to represent the sun peeking out from behind them. She had pulled part of my hair back and pinned it securely to my scalp, leaving the rest hanging in loose curls down my back and over my shoulders. She had applied the make-up much as a painter would apply oil paint to a canvas; but it somehow turned out all right.

I checked my reflection once more, and I realized that all this had been carefully chosen by my mother to cover my sickly-looking body and face. In that case, then, I would much rather walk out stark naked than have to marry someone that is not familiar with the real me.

My father waited patiently by the door, silently appraising me. He was a man of few words, as he had always been. He and I were alike in this way; we knew that sometimes it was better to simply say nothing at all. My mother hated this about the both of us; she loved to chatter, and it annoyed her to death when we wouldn't respond. She often referred to us as her "pair of brick walls," for she apparently felt as though she was talking to a brick wall whenever she spoke to either of us. We just pretended to not be too offended.

He nodded once, slowly, and I realized it was time to go out. A fresh wave of anxiety washed over me, but I managed to steadily place my hand into the crook of his elbow. He led me out of the room and into the hallway; I could hear my mother's cheery voice echoing from the doorway to the kitchen. My feet trembled in my slippers and the butterflies in my stomach began to multiply. I took one last breath, a very deep one, as my father pushed open the door to the kitchen.

At first, I saw only my mother in the room, standing with her back to us. She heard the door open and turned around, her soft pink kimono swishing audibly in the awkward silence. Her face was glowing with what I assumed was pride.

It was then that I saw him, peeking out from behind my mother. He was seated on precisely the same cushion that I had predicted he would be, smiling shyly at me. He had the same almond-shaped eyes as my mother, except that they were brown instead of blue. His black hair was combed and slicked back with some sort of gel, and he wore the traditional men's dress robes in grey. His faced looked like a doll's: flawless. He stood up, and I realized that he was rather tall. He took a step toward me, and my stomach did a weird kind of flip. I wondered if it was the good kind of flip, or the bad kind.

My father released my hand and nudged me forward a little. I lost my balance and stumbled forward; my fiancé rushed forward and gently pushed my shoulders back up.

"Thank you," I whispered, trying to calm my heart down. How humiliating! Out of the corner of my eye I could see my mother suppressing laughter behind her hand, and my father had his eyes closed.

But he smiled calmly at me, seemingly unnerved. "Are you nervous?" he asked with a chuckle. His voice was deep and smooth, like honey.

I laughed once and nodded. My cheeks seemed to have temporarily forgotten their ability to blush. I forgot to wonder why.

He then back up a little and sank into a bow. He gingerly took my left hand and brushed it with his lips. "It is an honor to finally meet you, Mischa-kun," he said while straightening up. "I am Ryo."

I inclined my head to show my concurrence. "Ryo," I said, my tongue curling peculiarly. The name felt strange, alien, and even foreign in my mouth.

I glanced at my parents, who were watching us closely. My mother's eyes were darting between us like a hummingbird's, her hands clasped together in an expression of glee. My father's tan face was as expressionless as usual, but there was an abnormal flicker in his blue eyes that concerned me.

My mother clapped her hands once and smiled widely. "Shall we eat, then?"

---

The sea breeze was cool on my flushed face as I sat at the window seat of my bedroom. The panes were wide open, and the curtains tickled my skin under my nightdress as they billowed outwards.

I blinked as another star appeared in the night sky. There was no sense pondering what they could possibly be, since I already knew. They were the other worlds that were supposed to remain a secret among the Keyblade bearers. Although, sometimes I wondered…remembering the bright neon lights of the World That Never Was, I wondered if maybe those stars were lights of a town in a world all its own. Maybe that's where _he_ is; content with his new heart in a world where everyone is happy.

I sighed, imagining this: a world where everyone was happy. That's where I need to be, a place where I can be whomever I wish to be. A place where girls are not handed off to strangers for marriage. Oh, Ryo was pleasant enough, to be sure. He spent the whole evening telling us about his life as the son of a wealthy businessman in the city and how he was never truly happy in the city but the moment he stepped onto Yoroido's beach he felt brand-new, and blah blah blah. How he was so happy that I was his blushing bride and that we would be his new family and such. I will smile and nod and pretend that I am happy for my parents' sake, but he isn't what I want. Come to think of it, I don't think that anything or anyone will ever be what I desire most in my heart.

I realized then that love is not something that can be bought or sold; it must be won over with the heart.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, I admit the part with the spirit might come off as a little weird. But I wanted to convey how lonely she is without Axel, and have his words foreshadow what will happen to her. ;)


	4. High and Dry

Author's Note: Mmkay, so here's the next chapter. :)

* * *

The waves were rolling in slowly today, gently crashing against the wooden dock on which Mischa sat. Ryo sat beside her, his arm resting lightly on her shoulders, which were slightly stiff under his touch. The sun was high in the sky, unblemished by the clouds floating across the sky.

Mischa peered out over the horizon, watching a sailboat drift idly about a mile out from the beach. She was envisioning something that Ryo beside her could never imagine, even in his most abnormal nightmares. Her eyes were clouded with the sight of a gigantic catfish rearing out of a choppy black sea, its eyes a blur of an eerie red and its whiskers at least ten yards long. Her eyes traced the pattern of the emblem on its forehead while flashes of color bolted across its head, rapidly dealing blows to its face. There was a bolt of lightning in the dark sky, and the muscles in her chest tingled as she saw the fish sway to the side; and then she saw herself flying, flying backwards, past them sitting on the dock and back into the town square. There was no crash; instead, her back muscles tingled wildly, and she shivered violently.

Ryo was watching her curiously, and he cupped his hand firmly around her shoulder when she shivered. "Are you cold?" he asked kindly.

She shook her head silently. Could the Namazu possibly still be there, out in that water somewhere? She composed her face and smiled up at him sweetly. "I've never been better. Can we take a boat out to sea?"

She was satisfied to see that his eyes had widened a little with shock at her request. "A boat?" he inquired, a little shakily. "Are you all right, dearest?"

"I've never been better," she repeated firmly, still smiling. She squirmed out of his grip and stood up, tugging on his sleeve. "Let's go."

He stood up, a little reluctantly. "Whatever you wish."

---

The rocking of the boat brought back feelings of nostalgia to Mischa as she leaned over the railing, staring down into the depths of the blue water below. They had been out at sea for almost an hour now, and Mischa had seen no sign of the fish. Instead she brooded, wondering if maybe it was _his_ presence that had brought the Namazu to Yoroido in the first place so many weeks ago.

Ryo was suddenly by her side, watching her face carefully. "You look unhappy," he commented, obviously trying to be gentle. "I, for one, certainly hope that you will be happier once we're married."

"Maybe," replied Mischa, not looking at him. "Maybe, just maybe, you won't end up like him."

"Like who?" He looked taken aback. "End up like whom, dearest?"

Mischa shook her head. "You couldn't believe me, even if I wanted to tell you."

"It can't be _that_ bad," he asked hesitantly, "can it? Whoever it was?"

Mischa fought back an eye roll and pursed her lips instead, knowing fully well that he was simply fishing for answers. "Not bad," she replied, stepping back from the ledge and turning around. "Not bad at all. In fact, he was better than you'll ever know."

She folded her arms and stood like that for a few moments, Ryo waiting uncertainly. Her heart pounded in her chest and her cheeks were flushed red. She had never lost her temper to someone like Ryo before; normally she was able to keep her feelings well hidden and her composure straight and calm. She had been thinking about _him_ again, and there was Ryo, standing where _he_ should be standing, saying what _he_ should be saying.

Mischa groaned silently. She could not be mad at Ryo, especially not a few days before the wedding. She had to retain control of her feelings; she owed her parents that much.

Slowly unfolding her arms, she turned back around to face him, attempting to appear shamefaced. "I'm sorry," she admitted contritely, wringing her hands. "That was very rude of me."

Ryo's uncertain expression melted at her words. He spread out his arms and pulled her into a firm embrace. "You don't have to be sorry, Mischa-san," he replied, his voice muffled by her hair. "I know all of this must seem like a rush for you." He sighed, and she felt warm air blow against her scalp. "I understand completely."

Mischa bit down on her tongue to stop herself from replying to this, and caused the copper taste of blood to surface in her mouth. "Yes," she squeaked, tears springing beneath her eyelids.

His body stiffened suddenly and he pushed her away, holding her by the shoulders and staring down at her face. "Are you crying?"

She blinked rapidly and shook her head. "No."

His face softened. "Oh, Mischa, dear," he cooed, tenderly tracing her jaw line with one finger. "I never realized how difficult this must be for you." His brown eyes narrowed in concern. "Your parents informed me that you haven't been yourself lately," he continued evasively, "and I don't mean to pry, but…"

Mischa shook her head before he could go any further. "No," she interjected firmly. "It doesn't matter anymore." She took a deep breath. "I promise I will be fine."

---

The sea-salt smell of the ocean filled Axel's nose and tickled his taste buds as he opened his mouth to take a breath. The dock seemed to go on endlessly as he walked, his black boots making no sound against the wooden planks. There were clouds ahead of him, engulfing the edge of the dock in their white clutches. He vaguely wondered why he was even walking on this dock in the first place, but some force kept pulling him along.

The clouds had no feeling as he stepped into them; no moisture, no softness; it was if they did not exist at all. He wondered if anything really existed in this strange world.

His mind was blank except for two recurring thoughts: something he wanted to do, and something he needed to do. Axel had always been accustomed to doing what he wanted and getting away with it, so this posed no problem to him in his nebulous mood. The cloud veil ahead of him began to thin a whisper at a time, and he began hearing the sharp calls of seagulls and the soft crashing of waves. He had reached the end of the dock, where there were about a dozen big, black sightseeing binocular stands, and past the wooden railing was a vast expanse of blue water. The color was strongly reminiscent of –

"Her eyes," he murmured, watching the mixture of black, white foam and cerulean blue that made up each rolling wave. He let out a low whistle and turned to the binoculars, eying them with ambivalence. Demyx had informed him earlier of the special property of these objects: by inserting just one coin, one could watch a loved one back on Earth for a short period of time, limit twice per day. He hadn't cared enough to ask Demyx who he had been watching back on Earth, or how he knew.

He fingered the coin in his pocket, wondering whether or not to try it. What if Demyx had been lying, and he, Axel, had gotten his hopes up for nothing? However, on the other hand, what other purpose would these binoculars serve in a world like this?

"Just put it in, man," came Demyx's voice from behind him.

Axel gripped the coin in his fist and turned his head to peer at Demyx from over his shoulder. "Speaking of the devil…"

Demyx brought his index finger to his lips and shushed him mockingly. "You shouldn't say things like that here, man. The Court might decide to send you packing."

"To where?" asked Axel, rolling his eyes. "Where could they possibly send me that's worse than here?"

Demyx looked at him measurably. "You don't know what spending eternity in the Darkness is like, Axel. It could be pure hell."

Axel snickered. "No pun intended, right?" He looked back towards the binoculars, feeling uneasy again. "Should I, er…"

"Just put the coin in," said Demyx, approaching the binoculars next to his. "The worst that could happen is nothing."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he mumbled, too quietly for Demyx to hear. He then glanced over to see Demyx inserting a coin into the slot and peering through the lenses. "Who are you watching?"

Demyx grinned a little. "My past self," he replied. "Unlike you, I was a little too busy helping the Organization to spend time chasing some human girl."

"I didn't know you could see that," he said, ignoring the jab.

Demyx shrugged. "Apparently so."

"Why do you want to know what you were like before?" asked Axel wistfully. "I mean, you're a completely different person now. Why does it matter who you were before if you'll never be that person again?"

Demyx didn't answer at first. He bit his lip, eyes transfixed on whatever was through the lens. "Dunno," he answered finally. "I guess it's the only thing I ever really cared about."

"The only thing worth existing for," muttered Axel softly. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was actually having a serious conversation with Demyx; it was almost heartfelt. He chuckled.

Demyx tore his gaze away from his binoculars to shoot Axel a puzzled glance. "What's so funny? Don't _you_ want to know what you were like before?"

Axel shook his head and moved closer to the binoculars in front of him. "I'd rather not live in the past."

Demyx let out a snort of a laugh. "Says the guy who's going to watch his human girlfriend back on Earth every day…"

Axel ignored him and placed the coin at the opening of the slot. Half of him wanted to know how she was doing, and half of him was afraid to find out. He glanced helplessly at Demyx, who was watching him expectantly. He sighed, pushing away his doubts, and dropped the coin into the slot.

He heard a soft _clink!_ as the coin fell to the bottom of the interior of the stand. The first thing he saw as he pressed his eyes against the lens was a small speck of white on a blanket of blue. He felt around on the stand and found a round knob; the speck became larger as he turned it until he finally realized that it was a boat. He zoomed a little more and finally saw her, leaning against the railing of the boat and watching the waves.

He felt the essence of a flutter in his chest and remembered that he still did not have a heart. But, he realized, as he gazed at her long brown hair dancing in the breeze, that watching her made him feel as though he really did have one.

Suddenly she was not alone. A man appeared from the inside of the cabin, hurrying to her side. Axel's stomach twisted at the sight of him, and was happy to see that she did not welcome him warmly.

He grabbed the sides of the binoculars and turned them so that he could see her face. Her blue eyes looked distant, as if she had been brooding over something. She didn't look any healthier than she had appeared when he had visited her a few days ago; he had thought of her and suddenly he was there with her, in the meadow, but unable to touch her. Zexion had since explained to him that the meadow held some sort of significance to his relationship with her, and so the pathway from the Moyenne-Vie to the mortal world was stronger there than anywhere else. He had been waiting for her to return there, but so far, she hadn't.

The man opened his mouth to say something to her, and Axel strained to hear his words.

"You look unhappy," he said, and her eyes flashed a little. _Well, duh, _thought Axel with a snicker. _And you're wondering why?_

"…hope that you will be happier once we're married."

Axel gasped; his air supply seemed to have suddenly been cut off by his own lungs. Married? _Married?_ She was really moving on? She had really forgotten all about him? She was getting _married_?

He suddenly felt extremely dizzy and backed away from the binoculars. He stumbled backwards, back into the veil of clouds. He needed to get away, far away, away from the sight of her and the binoculars and Demyx and the sound of those waves…

If he had a heart, he was quite sure that it had broken.

---

"That will be 700 yen, please."

Mischa fished around in her purse for the coins and handed them over to the expectant vendor. As she waited for him to fetch her Shirataku noodles in shrimp sauce, she glanced around at the little shop. There were only a few people eating here today; she noticed her mother's friend Chiyo unceremoniously shoveling noodles into her mouth and talking to another woman whom Mischa recognized vaguely but couldn't remember her name. Sunlight was pouring in through the long, wide windows, and the smell of seafood filled the air. Once her order was ready, she took it outside and sat down on a stone bench near the fountain in the middle of the town square.

Ryo had taken the ferry back to the mainland to "finish up some things at the office." Mischa was just fine with that. She would rather have some time alone to eat instead of having him in her face at all times.

She ate slowly, wanting to fill up as soon as possible. She needed to bulk up for the wedding; the dress her father had picked out for her practically drowned her frail body when she had tried it on. The dress was white with teal lace and was accompanied by a translucent white veil, to honor her Western roots. Her father was from America, and had been adopted by Japanese immigrants, who had given him his last name of Tatsuyo. His blue eyes were wide, unlike Kikisui's almond-shaped eyes, and his hair color was blond instead of black. Mischa looked like neither of her parents; instead, she was more of a mix of the two.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the swish of her mother's green kimono.

"Good afternoon, sweetheart," she said kindly, her blue eyes twinkling with good humor. She then raised an eyebrow and looked past Mischa at the bench, as if searching for something on it. "Where's Ryo?"

"The city," replied Mischa vaguely. She sighed at her mother's unconvinced gaze. "He said that he needed to finish up some things at the office."

Kikisui smiled. "Such a responsible young man! Aren't you glad your father and I found someone as wonderful as he for you?"

Mischa swallowed the noodles that were in her mouth, jabbing at the ones on her plate with her chopsticks. "Mother…there's something I need to share with you."

Kikisui's smile froze on her pretty face. "I hope it's not about Ryo."

She sighed. "It is." She glanced up and into her mother's unreadable eyes. "Mother, I don't think that I can go through with this wedding."

She said it so quietly that she was afraid that Kikisui hadn't heard her. As she opened her mouth to repeat herself, however, Kikisui cut her off.

"When did you decide this?" she asked flatly.

The breeze had suddenly become slightly chill. Mischa shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I haven't felt comfortable with the idea since the beginning."

Kikisui nodded slowly as she considered. Mischa's heart leaped; maybe she was reconsidering the engagement!

"You don't feel comfortable," she repeated, her gaze becoming more of a glare with each word she spoke. Mischa's heart sank just as quickly as it had risen.

"No," she said softly. "I can no longer pretend that I am happy with this engagement."

"So," said her mother, "you want me to call off the wedding for you, until you feel _comfortable_ with it."

Mischa opened her mouth timidly to reply, and then closed it after realizing that it hadn't been a question.

"You want me to disregard all of the hard work that your father and I did to arrange this marriage," she continued, her voice dangerously laced with bitterness. "You want your father and me to become an embarrassment to our village."

Mischa closed her eyes, where warm tears were forming under her eyelids. "Yes," she whispered.

Suddenly, Mischa felt a stinging sensation in her left cheek, and realized that her mother had slapped her.

"Stop being so selfish, Mischa!" she hissed, her beautiful blue eyes narrowed to barely-there slits. "You know perfectly well that this marriage affects your father and me just as much as it affects you!"

Mischa stood up so quickly that Kikisui had the grace to look surprised. "This is _my_ life, Mother," she said quietly, the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

Kikisui stood up as well. "This is not how we raised you, Mischa," she said with a sniff of disapproval. "I thought we taught you to honor your mother and father, and respect their wishes."

Mischa said nothing. Instead, she turned and walked away, to the place where her mother was no longer welcome.

---

While walking down the road, Mischa broke into a run, tears running freely down her flushed cheeks. Her mother had never yelled at her before; she had never slapped her before, either. What had she done that was so wrong?

She tore through the tree branches and bushes until she reached the familiar clearing of the meadow. The grass was soft as she collapsed onto it, under the pink cherry blossom tree. She covered her face with her arms and wept, her mind clear of any thoughts.

The air suddenly became very cold. Mischa shivered and lowered her arms. She blinked away the tears in her eyes and stared ahead of her.

This time, she could see him; faintly, but he was still there. She could see his black robes and bright red hair coloring the trees on the other side of the meadow. He was only a few feet away from her, yet she knew she could not touch him.

"I can't," she whispered. "I can't do this anymore." She took a deep breath and listened carefully, in case he tried to speak to her again. "I…there must be some way that I can be with you…Axel."

There was a brief pause. Then, quite suddenly, her body began to ache.

* * *

Author's Note: Cliffie! Teehee. Because summer's coming, I'll probably be able to most more often. Soon Axel and Mischa will be reunited! :D


	5. Off I Go

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long. Every time I had a new idea, I'd forget it by the time I'd sit down to write. t_t But I finally did it! (this isn't the end of the story, btw.)

oh, and it's entirely in first person...but i think you can differentiate between axel and mischa. :)

* * *

_There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold,  
And she's buying the stairway to heaven.  
When she gets there, she knows, if the stores are all closed,  
With a word she can get what she came for. _

_  
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying the stairway to heaven._

_---_

"There has to be a way," I pleaded. "There has to be some way to bring her to me."

I had always gotten along pretty well with Zexion. I'm not sure why – he was always really quiet and kept to himself most of the time – but I have a funny feeling that it had to do with how we both felt about the Organization's members. There was certainly no love lost between him and amateurs like Marluxia and Larxene – he being one of the original members – and it had been my responsibility to dispose of people like them. His face was usually a blank mask under a shock of spiky blue hair, but during our meetings in the throne room of the Castle That Never Was, I could always tell that he agreed with what I would say. He would watch me curiously, his head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed as if in speculation, and his face as smooth and undeterred as concrete; but through his eyes you could always tell what he was really thinking.

Right now, though, Zexion was looking down at me with disdain. Seated on a comfy-looking white chaise, he seemed to be the only source of color present in the snow-white room. The curious expression was still there, but this time there was a sort of doubt creasing his forehead, as if he didn't quite believe what I was saying.

"Axel," he said quietly, his mouth barely forming the words he was saying. "Are you asking me to kill a human being so that you can be with her?"

I felt a nudge on my shoulder and remembered that Demyx had followed me here. "It does sound pretty bad, Axel," he said knowingly.

I shook my head impatiently, shrugging Demyx away. "You don't understand," I said. "She doesn't belong there." I thought for a moment. "She's unhappy."

Zexion's mouth formed a hard line. "How do you know that she is unhappy?"

"I've been watching her," I answered promptly, not sure why he wasn't agreeing with me. I know her better than anyone, after all. "And I, er…visited her once."

Demyx snickered behind me. I kicked him in the shin and felt a satisfaction at his responding yelp.

Zexion closed his eyes as if praying for patience. "Axel," he said, so softly that I had to strain to hear him. "I cannot do that. She needs to come here by her own will."

At his words, a strange sensation came over me. My vision suddenly became foggy, and I had the distinct feeling that she was nearby; _very _nearby. I blinked slowly, and suddenly I was in the meadow, facing the pink cherry blossom tree and the little trickling waterfall. She was there, actually there in front of me, but I knew that I couldn't move any closer to her at the moment. Her face was buried in her arms and her whole body shook with the tears that she was crying. Suddenly, she stopped and looked up, straight at me. The intensity of her blue, watery gaze made me catch my breath.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, but I heard her as clearly as if she were standing right next to me. "I…there must be some way that I can be with you…Axel."

I gasped; she remembered my name! Only recently, I had been so sure that she had forgotten all about me and moved on with her life. I felt such a relief to hear her say my name.

I blinked again, this time by instinct, and the meadow was gone; in her place was Zexion, his eyes still closed.

"I just saw her," I said urgently. He opened his eyes, watching me carefully. "Zexion, she told me herself that she wants to come here. She said that she only wants to be with me."

I was exaggerating a little bit, but at this point I didn't care; Zexion actually seemed to be considering.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his dubious tone replaced with a hushed seriousness.

I nodded confidently. "I swear on my life, for what it's worth."

Zexion hesitated a moment longer, then nodded once. "It is against the laws of nature, and who knows how the Court is going to handle this. But if you are sure that this is what she truly wants, then I will agree to aide you."

Demyx clapped me on the back like a proud father. Zexion closed his eyes again.

"I think what I will try to do right now is weaken her immune system with a simple spell," he said, his voice slightly slurred with deep concentration. "It may take some time, and it may require Vexen's assistance to do some real damage…"

"I don't care," I interjected firmly. "As long as we can be together, nothing else matters."

---

_There's a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure,  
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.  
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings,  
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven. _

_  
Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it makes me wonder…_

_---_

A few days before the wedding was scheduled to take place, Ryo came to our cottage with some distressing news.

"I just came from the city," he said, his voice breathless. I hurried behind him and helped him take off his long coat. My mother and father stood before us in the kitchen, looking worried.

"Is something the matter?" my father asked calmly. He never let any emotions show.

Ryo glanced back at me with a nod of thanks for taking his coat, which I had draped over my arm. "It appears that there is some sort of pandemic occurring there. I fear that it is only a matter of time before it crosses over to this island."

My mother gasped, her hand over her mouth. Kikisui always overreacted to such things while my father usually did nothing. "Is it serious?"

"There have…been some casualties," replied Ryo evasively. He turned his head back to glance at me. "If you wouldn't mind, Mischa dear, I'd very much appreciate it if you –" He paused, searching for the right word. "If you would try very hard to stay as far away as possible from the disease."

"You want me to stay confined to the house," I translated dryly. My mother shot me a reproving glare, but I ignored it.

He turned his body around to look at me squarely. "Yes, I suppose that is what I'm asking." He leaned in a little as if to express his point. "Is that clear, Mischa?"

It took everything I had not to spit in his face. 'Is that clear'? '_Is that clear'_? Did I suddenly look like a child?

"I do not take orders from anyone," I replied calmly. "Is _that_ clear?"

That is what I wanted to say. But, of course, in this world I had to comply.

"Of course," I said instead, bowing my head in respect.

---

_There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,  
And my spirit is crying for leaving.  
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,  
And the voices of those who stand looking. _

_  
Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it really makes me wonder…_

_---_

"Hey, Axel!"

I sighed. Demyx again. I was half inclined to just ignore him, but then I realized that he might have some important news regarding my plan with Zexion.

"Hey," he puffed, breathless from running. The proximity of the clouds to this dock could do that to you, I guess. He paused for a moment, doubled over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, then straightened and looked at me squarely. "I have some news."

I rolled my eyes. "I got that much. What's up?"

He pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Weeeeell," he droned in a high-pitched voice that sounded suspiciously like a mockery of Vexen, "it appears we hahve hahd a breakthrough in our plahn for your dearly depahrted."

It took me a few seconds to translate through his ridiculous accent. I then jumped up, realizing what he meant. "Vexen figured something out?" I exclaimed, unable to contain my excitement.

Demyx nodded. "Yeah. He told me to come get you, 'cuz I guess he wants you to see it or something?" His voice rose an octave uncertainly.

I looked at him dubiously. "Is something wrong with it?"

"No…" he replied evasively. "I just…I dunno how you're gonna be able to see…"

I brushed past him before he could finish crushing my hopes.

_---_

_And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,  
Then the piper will lead us to reason.  
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,  
And the forests will echo with laughter._

_---_

My confinement to the house lasted for about a day, before it was time to have my wedding dress fitted.

"I still think the kimono would be a better choice," my mother was saying as we walked outside. She was wearing a simple red one today, which was different. Simple was not my mother's usual style.

My father shook his blond head and fixed his hard blue gaze on his wife. "Kikisui, we've been over this before. We've done everything else for this engagement by your culture, so we will have an American-style wedding with an American-style dress."

"You're Japanese as well," she huffed in response, but he ignored her. We both became brick walls walking on either side of her on the street.

"I found a dressmaker that sells dresses from America," my father said a few moments later. "Apparently she's very talented, and her creations are of the finest quality."

My mother perked up at the word _finest_. "Really? Well, then, I suppose it's all right."

My father chuckled in response. We continued walking in silence, waving to our friends shopping in the square, until we reached a large stone building by the bay.

"We're going to the city?" I asked, remembering Ryo's warning about the pandemic. He won't be happy to know that I was in the city against his wishes, but I suppose that if he knew my parents took me, he couldn't be angry with me.

My father sighed. "I don't want to, what with the pandemic and all, but that's where she's located." He looked at me and smiled encouragingly. "We'll just have to risk it."

I had only been to the city a few times, but each time I went, it seemed to have grown larger and busier. The buildings had gotten taller, the roads had become wider, and the noise had gotten louder. It wasn't half as large as some of the other cities in Japan, but it was enormous by Yoroido's standards.

We walked quickly down the lane along the road, trying to stay together as a myriad of people rushed by us, all with scarves covering their mouths to protect them from germs. It wouldn't do much to help them, though. The disease will reach them all eventually.

After a few turns around corner buildings, my father led us into a small store with a large front window. The inside of the shop was cheery-looking, with light wooden floors and bright lights covered in a soft pink material that gave the room a rosy glow. There were beautiful white dresses with puffy sleeves in the window. A tiny bell chimed as the door closed on its own behind us. Behind a pink curtain in the back of the room there was a shout of surprise, and suddenly a very short, stout woman came bustling out from behind it, wrestling with a long piece of yellow measuring tape.

"Hello!" she called. Her voice reminded me of that of a bird I had once heard in the meadow. "Just a moment please, I need to – " she stopped struggling and carefully unwrapped the tape from around her body. "There, all better." She turned to us and smiled until the edges of her eyes were so crinkled they threatened to disappear. "Is this the blushing bride?"

I smiled back at her, refusing to blush. "Yes, that's me."

She beckoned me to her side and looked me over. "You are very skinny!" she exclaimed, glancing uneasily towards my parents. "We may have to adjust…"

"Just try it on, Mischa," my father said, a twinkle in his eyes. I assumed he had chosen the dress himself.

The woman ushered me into a tiny changing room the size of a broom cupboard. She disappeared, then reappeared holding something white inside a large bag made of clear plastic: the dress. She unzipped it, placed it carefully in my outstretched arms, then disappeared again. I heard her talking with my parents, and assumed I was to put it on by myself.

The fabric was soft but cold against my warm skin. I guess my recent bulking up had paid off; it fit like a glove. I was trying to zip up the back when the woman came back in.

"Ohhhh!" she squealed, clapping her hands together. "Oh, it's marvelous! Come out and show Mama and Papa!"

I stepped out from behind the pink curtain and walked barefoot to the middle of the floor. I refused to look up at my parents only because I was so fixated on the dress. It was white, but a true white, like the color of snow falling from the sky as opposed to on the ground; the kind that's so beautiful that you can't help but admire it, but at the same time afraid to touch it for fear it might be ruined forever. Adorning the hem of the skirt and both sleeves was a blue ribbon the same color as my eyes, and I had tied the large bow lined with the same ribbon neatly in the back. I thought it was magnificent.

"What do you think?" asked my father softly. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Beautiful," I whispered. I lifted the skirt and twirled around once, slowly, admiring the way the fabric swished around my bare ankles. "I love it."

My father made a little noise of approval. "So did your grandmother, when she wore it at her wedding."

I glanced up at him. "This was Grandma's?" I asked, shocked. My grandmother died five years ago. How in the world did he bring this dress to Japan?

"Marjorie brought it over," he said, as if reading my thoughts. My father had a way of doing that. "She's here for the wedding."

There was suddenly the sound of bells chiming, and footsteps on the wooden floor of the shop behind me. I turned around slowly, curious as to who it was but also not wanting to tear the dress. Before I could react, there were arms around me and the sweet smell of strawberry shampoo wafting in my nostrils.

"Mischa!" came Marjorie's angelic voice from somewhere above my right ear. "It so good to again see you!"

I laughed at her stinted Japanese. Fortunately, I learned how to speak fluent English while I was in school, so communicating with my favorite cousin would not be a problem.

I hugged her back, careful not to wrinkle the fragile fabric of the dress. "Marjorie!" I exclaimed, a bubble of excitement rising in my chest. I hadn't felt this happy to see a human being for weeks; it was as if I was a sky filled with dark, stormy clouds, and Marjorie was the sun, come to chase them away.

I also knew that Marjorie had only come for the wedding and thus would be going back to America very soon. I hugged her tighter.

I heard her chuckle. "I think she missed me!" she said, and was followed by my parent's laughter. She released her grip and held me by the shoulders at arm's length. "Aren't you just beautiful," she murmured. "Are you excited for your big day?"

This was the question I had been dreading, but I knew someone would have to ask it eventually. I opened my mouth to answer, expecting an easy lie to come forth, but nothing came. My parents and Marjorie watched me expectantly, but I knew I couldn't fake my feelings about this any longer.

"It's very…nerve-wracking," I said simply. I smiled. That answer was neither affirmative nor negative, and it wasn't a lie, either.

My parents' smiles stayed frozen on their faces, but Marjorie's took on a look of concern. "Oh, dear. Why don't we go get our hair and nails done for the wedding? I should think some girl time would help you relax a bit."

I looked at my parents, who were nodding at me encouragingly behind Marjorie.

"I think that is a wonderful idea," I replied, accompanied by the first grin I've been able to manage In what felt like a lifetime.

---

_If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now.  
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.  
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run,  
There's still time to change the road you're on._

_  
And it makes me wonder…_

_---_

"How does it work?" asked Demyx, who had followed me as I rushed back to Vexen's laboratory.

Vexen's makeshift laboratory looked a lot like the one he had previously occupied in the Castle That Never Was. As the oldest member of the Organization, Vexen had always seemed to have a hard time changing what he thought was the 'right way' to do things. He had been on the same boat as Zexion as far as Marluxia was considered; therefore, they both teamed up to help me, the one who helped get rid of him.

Now, the four of us were watching apprehensively as Vexen dipped a cloth into a bowl of a smoking purple liquid and then sniffed it curiously.

"Are you sure you should – " began Zexion unsurely, but Vexen dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"It cannot affect us because we do not exist," he replied, grimacing at the odor emitting from the liquid. "Oh, dear."

"Is something wrong with it?" I asked, suddenly worried. This was my only shot at bringing her here, after all.

Vexen shook his blond head. "Oh, no, it's ready all right. It's the smell…" He pinched his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "Extremely unpleasant."

I shrugged. "Well, it doesn't matter. We can get rid of it afterwards."

Vexen removed his fingers and fixed his green eyes on me in a hard gaze. "Are you completely sure that this is what you want?"

Demyx rolled his eyes and sighed. "Well, duh, Vex. What's the point of asking that?"

Vexen and I both ignored him, though I was thankful for his support. "It's what I want," I said firmly. "She's the only thing I want."

Vexen's eyebrows raised slowly. "You could bring Roxas here as well, you know," he said softly.

This caught me off guard. I had been so wrapped up in bringing her here that I had almost forgotten about my best friend back on Earth. Roxas had been the only reason I had stuck around with the Organization because he had been the only _real_ one. I knew I promised him that we would meet in the next life, but I also knew that he was happy where he was now.

"He's happy," I replied with a shrug. "That's where he wants to be, and he'll come here when he's ready."

The other three watched me expectantly, apparently waiting for me to go on. I decided to change the subject.

"So, how does it work?" I asked, gesturing vaguely towards the potion. It began smoking profusely and I finally noticed the smell. It was rather like rotten eggs mixed with gasoline.

Vexen retrieved a glass flask from somewhere under his lab table. "Well, we're going to put some into this, and then you're going to drop it into the ocean."

I blinked. "Why?"

"Because that is the only way to communicate with the mortal world," answered Zexion quietly. "Haven't you noticed that the only binoculars are by the ocean?"

I accepted the flask from Vexen, who had just filled it with the horrible-smelling potion. "And I just drop it in the ocean on the day of the wedding?"

Vexen nodded. "You have to think about her while you do it, though, or the effects with harm anybody."

"The potion is designed to weaken the immune system," explained Zexion. He exchanged a smirk with Vexen. "It will also draw the pandemic germs we created to her body."

"Will the pandemic kill anyone else?" I asked, thinking about her fiancé. The last person I wanted to see following her around would be him.

"No, we designed it to only be fatal when it contaminates her body," answered Vexen. "Anyone else who encounters it will simply experience symptom of the common cold for a few days."

"But it's still fun to see them all running around screaming over it," laughed Zexion. Vexen and Demyx chuckled, and soon I joined in as well.

I walked back to the dock later that day, gripping the flask's neck in my fist. The moment would be soon.

---

_Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know.  
The piper's calling you to join him.  
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know  
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?_

_---_

"Are you ready?" Marjorie asked me with an encouraging smile. The temple bells were chiming in the distance – the sign that meant I needed to begin the progression down to the beach.

My father had debated on having the ceremony at the temple, but then decided that it was too Japanese. I suggested the beach because it was my favorite place to be – aside from the meadow, of course. But no one could know about that.

Marjorie, my maid of honor, helped me up off of my stool and down the hallway to the foyer, where she helped me into a pair of white shoes with dangerously high heels. She laughed as I wobbled out the front door.

It was a beautiful day outside; the sun was bright and there was not a single cloud for miles. There was a cool, non-threatening breeze, which made me shiver a little under my silky white dress. Marjorie linked her arm with mine as we walked down the short path to the beach, where I could see dozens of white chairs and an archway a few yards from the water, all covered in pink flowers.

Everyone was already seated as we arrived. Marjorie led me to the beginning of the aisle, where my father took her place and slid his hand into the crook of my elbow. I watched as she, with her long silky pink bridesmaid dress, walked confidently down the aisle to the sound of some violinists under a canopy.

Suddenly, the music changed into a slow march; everyone quickly stood up in unison and turned around to watch me. Butterflies began to flutter uncontrollably in my stomach, and the nerves caused my body to feel incredibly weak. I feared I would collapse on my way there.

My father led me down the aisle, and as we walked I noticed that the audience was comprised mostly of villagers and some of my relatives from America. There were only a few I knew by name; the rest must have be companions of Ryo. When my father let go of my arm as we reached the archway, I finally noticed Ryo. He had the most radiant smile on his face, and he appeared genuinely happy to have me as his bride. A part of me wished that I could feel the same way about him, but the rest of me knew that I could not.

He smiled and extended his hand, inviting me to join him under the archway. There was a man in white robes with us, holding an old-looking black book. He began to speak, but I was so nervous that I barely heard him. I did hear him, however, when Ryo responded.

"I do," he said firmly. The man in the robes then turned to me.

"And do you, Mischa Acelynn Tatsuyo, take Mister Ryo Daitaro Fukuda, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to respect him in his successes and in his failures, to care for him in sickness and in health, and to grow with him throughout the seasons of life?"

Fully aware that everyone there was watching me, I glanced up at the sky. Above me was the most unusual-looking cloud.

---

_And as we wind on down the road,  
Our shadows taller than our soul,  
There walks a lady we all know,  
Who shines white light and wants to show  
How everything still turns to gold.  
And if you listen very hard,  
The tune will come to you at last.  
When all are one and one is all,  
To be a rock and not to roll._

_---_

The moment was now.

I had been watching through the binoculars for what felt like hours, and the wedding was finally taking place. As much as it killed me to watch it, I knew that the potion in my hand would ruin it. That thought brought a much-needed smile to my face.

I watched her walk down the aisle on her father's arm. I felt a drop of water on my hand, and realized that it had come from my own eye. I hadn't known that I could cry. But, I guess, in the afterlife anything is possible.

Now she was standing under the archway, and a slightly rotund man in white robes was reading from a black book and babbling a bunch of crap about lifelong commitments. I saw her parents in the audience. Her mother was smiling so smugly I wanted to smack her, but her father's face was blank; not proud like a normal father's would be. I wondered if maybe he was as unsure of the marriage as the bride was.

The fat man turned to the fiancé and I knew it was time to throw the switch. I stepped over to the ledge and leaned over the side, then dropped the flask carefully into the curving waves.

I went back to the binoculars to watch the ensuing chaos, but a moment or two went by with nothing happening. I glanced back at the water to see if the bottle had sunk…and saw it bobbing peacefully on top of the waves.

Panicking, I climbed on top of the ledge and sat in a crouch position, thinking furiously. The potion had to reach her body before she said "I do," or she'd be a married woman; and as selfish as that sounds, I could not allow that to happen. I looked down at the water. I was never good at swimming – being a bit of a firebrand and all, and plus, water was Demyx's specialty – but I would have to try. Besides, this is the afterlife. You can't drown if you're already dead.

I took a deep breath, and then clumsily flung myself off the ledge. I cringed, expecting to hit a solid wave headfirst, but there was only a rush of cool air. I thought maybe I had somehow missed the water, so I opened my eyes to see that I _was_ in the water; but the water in the afterlife wasn't actually water, so there was no way one could drown. It was basically a mirage, and then underneath was a bunch of air that had no gravity. I felt utterly weightless, like I was floating around in outer space.

I spotted the flask on the "waves" above me, so I wriggled like an awkward fish towards it. Once I got hold of it, I looked down. Below me were what looked to be clouds, and it took me a moment to realize that those clouds were actually the ones you see in the sky down on Earth.

I hurried downwards, afraid that I was wasting precious time. As I neared the cloud, I realized that I was looking down at the wedding. I pushed the potion flask through the translucent material of the cloud – some invisible force stopped my hand from going through it – and watched it float down to the ground.

Suddenly, I felt my hood being tugged from behind. I turned my head, but I was then pulled sharply by some force upwards, back to the dock. I landed unceremoniously on the wood surface of the dock and noticed three stern-looking faces above me. There were two men and a woman, but I didn't recognize any of them.

"Axel," said the woman, gruffly lifting me up and holding my arm to steady me. "Under the laws of the Magistral Court, you are in violation of Code 53."

"What?" I sputtered, suddenly afraid that the Court had found out about the potion. Would they still allow her to come here?

"You made contact with the mortal world without written permission," she replied, as if this should have been obvious. "The Court will decide your fate."

I felt the hands of her two goons grab my shoulders. As they started to drag me away, I quickly wrenched myself from their grip and reached for the binoculars.

---

There was suddenly the strangest smell in the air. I looked around, trying to see if anyone else could sense it. Everyone in the audience was watching me curiously, and the only movement was the slight turning of heads as the family members exchanged confused glances, wondering why I wasn't responding. I could see Ryo's hurt expression from the corner of my eye.

I started to feel extremely weak; the more of the smell I inhaled, the weaker my body became. I took a deep breath and my knees gave out. I tripped backwards and landed on the sand behind the arch. There was a collective gasp from the audience, and in a flurry of robes, everyone was on their feet.

A bubbling cough came from my chest, and I glanced down to see blood staining the front of my wedding gown. As Ryo and my parents' faces appeared above me, I felt as though my organs would come out next. Every inch of my body was in turmoil, and the pain was almost unbearable. They were shouting at me to hold on because somebody had run to get the doctor. Holding on wasn't an option, and judging by Ryo's expression, he could tell.

"I love you, Mischa," he said, so softly that only I could hear.

I tried to smile, just to make him feel better, but a warm, familiar voice encompassed my hearing…

_"I wish I could say that I love you, Misch. But, under the circumstances, I guess the most I can give you is that you make me feel like I actually have a heart."_

Which meant more to me: the one that could say it easily but was unsure of its meaning, or the one who couldn't but genuinely wished that he could?

At that moment, I was sure that I did not belong in this world any longer. Smiling at my parents, I welcomed Death like an old friend; the pain was gone and I felt an incredible bliss. The scene around me fizzled away and I stood up, gazing apprehensively at the massive gold stairwell that had appeared ahead of me. At the top of the stairwell stood my knight in shining armor; though his armor was more of the black cloak sort.

Behind him was the most beautiful white light.

---

…_And she's buying the stairway to heaven.

* * *

_

Author's Note: I decided to use "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin because it's a classic, and truly just an amazing song. I learned the intro on guitar (not as easy as it sounds, trust me) and when I listened to it again, I felt that it was perfect for this chapter.

Also – since chapter 3 I've been naming the chapters after the song that inspired me. It doesn't really matter all that much, but I just thought I'd say so because I always like to spread a little musical cheer. :) 3 was "Long Hallway With A Broken Light" by Thriving Ivory, 4 was "High and Dry" by Radiohead, and this one is "Off I Go" by Greg Laswell (aka the song they used at the end of the last season finale of Grey's Anatomy).

I repeat: THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY. I will get cracking on the next chapter soonly. :)


	6. Speeding Cars

Author's Note: Here we go! You wouldn't believe the amount of homework I've been getting; it should be against the law. Especially since I haven't been able to write as often as I've wanted to :O but fortunately I tried my best. :D

* * *

_In life, there are always two roads to choose from. There may be a great deal of others along the way, but in the end, it always comes down to two._

_The first road is the one that is easy. Many people have treaded here before, the one where the grass is flattened and the thorns have been cut back. In other words, the path on which it would be very difficult to be hurt._

_The other road is quite different; or, at least, it is perceived to be different. It is different because it is unknown, and traveling the unknown is more difficult than traveling where one has already been._

_It seems to me, however, that no matter which road one chooses, one always seems to end up in the unknown._

_---_

The first thing that Mischa noticed when she opened her eyes was that she was in a white room.

The chair she was seated on was soft; she stroked the cushion absently with her fingers, and it felt as wispy as a cloud. There were many seats like this surrounding her, in neat little rows. It was rather like a waiting room of some sort. There was no one else in the room.

She looked down at herself, and realized that she was no longer in her wedding gown. She was wearing her reddish-pink kimono mini-dress with the storm cloud depiction still on it. She smiled to herself. Some things just never changed.

"Mischa?" came a soft, female voice from an open door on the other side of the room. She had not noticed this door before, and wondered if it had simply just appeared.

"Mischa, come here please," the invisible voice continued. Mischa stood up slowly, uncertainly, but walked towards the door. It was slightly ajar, and swung open at her soft touch.

It was another white room, but this one was five times as large as the waiting room had been. Mischa had the vague feeling that she was about to receive some kind of test in order to enter the afterlife.

A sandy-haired woman flitted to her side as she entered the large room. Ahead of her appeared to be a long white table about twenty feet high; behind which sat around ten people, watching her as she entered.

"Mischa," said the woman; Mischa realized that hers was the voice that had spoken to her a few seconds ago as well. "My name is Saffron. Welcome to the Court of the Moyenne-Vie."

A chair had materialized a few yards away from the large table. Mischa felt a strange sensation wash over her, and realized that she was afraid. She stepped forward.

"Oh, my God."

"It's her!"

"Can _she_ free us –?"

"No wonder we're in prison, they must've broken a thousand laws to bring her here…"

Mischa halted and looked around wildly. Where were those voices coming from? There were only white walls surrounding the room.

Who were they? Why were they talking about _her_?

"Ignore them," said Saffron in a low voice as they continued to walk towards the Court table. "They're in a lot of trouble with the Court at the moment."

"Who are they?" Mischa heard herself ask. Her voice sounded the same as it always had to her, except perhaps a little bit clearer.

Saffron did not answer. The chair was suddenly in front of Mischa, and ten pairs of eyes were fixated on her figure from above. She sat down on it, feeling a bit self-conscious. About half of the Court's expressions were curious; the others were passive, skeptical, and one man looked rather enthralled.

"Mischa Acelynn Tatsuyo, I presume?" asked the woman in the middle. She sounded very bored. Mischa looked up at her timidly; at first glance, she thought that the woman looked rather like a toad. Her face was about twice the size of Mischa's, and her beady black eyes bored into Mischa's with the look of someone who wanted to finish up quickly and go home.

"Yes," said Mischa in a small voice. She twiddled her thumbs, an anxious habit.

"Well, Mischa, do you know where you are?" the woman continued vaguely.

Mischa shook her head slowly. It appeared to be a courtroom. Why would there be a courtroom in the afterlife?

The woman half-smiled. "You are in the Magistral Court, my dear. And I am the Chief Magistrate."

Mischa nodded. This information did not seem very important.

The Chief leaned back in her seat, staring at Mischa intently. "Very odd, isn't it?" She glanced at her comrades, who nodded in hasty agreement.

Mischa cleared her throat softly. "Sorry?" she asked lightly. "What's odd?"

The Chief cocked her head to the side at her question. "I – that is to say, _we_ – find it interesting that a Princess of Heart should end up in the Magistral Court. The Court is usually used for those souls who have – " she coughed deliberately " – misbehaved."

There was a great muttering from the walls around Mischa. She looked around again and stared at the walls, but no one appeared.

It was then that she heard it: the soft whisper of "Misch" that sent her heart fluttering wildly. It also clouded her mind with anger at the realization that _he_ was in the same vicinity, just a few steps away, and she could not even see him.

She stood up abruptly and glared up at the Chief. "Show them!" she demanded, gesturing to the invisible prisoners behind the eerily white walls.

The Chief did not look surprised at the harshness of Mischa's remark. The other members hissed with indignation, but she held up her hand indifferently to silence them.

"As you wish," she said, "your Highness."

The walls flashed a bright white light, and then fizzled away. Behind them were twelve large jail cells with purple bars, each holding an individual wearing a long, black coat. Their faces were shadowed by the cowls of their hoods. One by one, the members of Organization XIII lowered their hoods to reveal the faces underneath. Mischa tried to match their features to the names that Sora had told her so long ago. White hair, Xemnas; eye patch, Xigbar; wild black hair, Xaldin; blond hair, Vexen; curly reddish hair, Lexaeus; blue hair and X-shaped scar, Saïx; sandy hair with a strange-looking haircut, Demyx; pale blond hair and earrings, Luxord; wavy pink hair, Marluxia; the blond female, Larxene; dark blue hair, Zexion; and finally, the face she had been so desperately searching for: the handsome one with the emerald-green eyes and the wild, fiery red hair.

Her heart soared in her chest at the sight of Axel's bright eyes. Her legs took on a mind of their own and she darted past the table of Court Magistrates towards him. She had forgotten that he was stuck in a jail cell until she reached him and realized that there were solid bars blocking their reunion.

"Axel," she breathed, relief washing through her veins at the sound of his name on her lips.

He reached his hand out from between the bars and held hers gently. His gloved skin was just as icy cold to her touch as she remembered it.

"I thought I told you to forget about me," he whispered sternly. For a moment Mischa worried that he was unhappy to see her, but then he squeezed her hand lightly.

"You know I couldn't do that," she replied softly.

He sighed. "I know. But I still had to hope. I couldn't sentence you to this life and still call myself a man." He reached up with his free hand and brushed some of her hair out of her eyes. She hadn't noticed until now that her hair was back in its half-bun, half-braid style.

"It's what I wanted," she argued, closing her eyes at his cool touch. He touched his fingers to her cheek, and watched with amusement as it colored under his fingertips.

"I'm still cold to you," he said absently. "I thought that might've changed, being…here."

It suddenly occurred to Mischa just how many questions she needed to ask him. Snippets of desperate thoughts swirled rapidly around her mind, blurring her vision. There was a loud buzz ringing in both of her ears. She felt herself turn to the side and then shout something. After the fourth or fifth shout, she finally realized what she was saying.

"_LET THEM GO_!"

The members of the Court began hissing loudly in response to her demand. Mischa could hear Axel muttering to the blue-haired man in the cell beside his.

"…delirious, is it a side-effect of the potion?"

"It most certainly is not!" a slightly high-pitched voice from the other side of Axel retorted heatedly. "She can no longer be affected by it, as she is no longer alive!"

"She _is_ alive, Vexen," murmured the quiet voice of whom Axel had been first addressing. "The Court of the Moyenne-Vie is like a kind of purgatory; she will not officially belong to this world until she leaves this Courtroom."

"Is that why we're here, then?" whispered Axel. "Zexion, are we not actually dead?"

Zexion paused for a hundredth of a second. "No, we're dead, all right," he replied grimly. "The Court is planning on sentencing us to eternity in the darkness for bringing the girl here."

A quiet growl rippled through Mischa's throat at these words. She was inching back towards the lonely-looking chair when the Chief spoke.

"Peace, Miss Tatsuyo," she said, sounding bored again. "We will free them, if you wish it."

The other members of the Court turned to the Chief, stricken. "What?" gasped a wheezy man from the right end of the table. "Forgive me, Your Honor, but I don't think that the girl should be able to simply waltz in here and start making orders to – "

"Yes," the Chief interjected. "That would certainly not be the procedure for any normal human. However, Miss Tatsuyo is a Princess of Heart; therefore, certain principals apply." She beckoned Mischa to come closer to the chair, which Mischa followed reluctantly. She stood next to it, refusing to take a seat.

"For instance," the Chief continued, ignoring Mischa's stance and the _harrumphs_ of the other members of the Court, "the Princess has the chance to return to the mortal world."

The following silence was deafening. The buzzing started up in Mischa's ears again, and she swayed dangerously on the spot. "No, no. No, no, no."

The Chief inclined her head towards her. "Consider it a royal custom. The offer is always open to Your Highness should you choose to take it. However, the chance can only be taken one time."

"One time?"

"One time. After that, you must perish like any other human." She gave a great laugh that came out as a rather loud snort.

Mischa could hear quiet murmuring from the cells behind her as she processed this. She could return to Yoroido and see her parents and Marjorie again! She could simply wake up and tell them how sorry she was to have given in and left them behind.

However, if she did this, she would also have to marry Ryo.

Was this something she wanted? Did she want to return to Earth and live a life of unhappiness, or start a new one here?

The Chief seemed to sense her hesitation. "The offer will remain open if you so choose to take it," she said softly. "You are the very first Princess of Heart to end up here, so it is quite different for us as well…"

"Yes, well." Mischa drew herself up to her full height and stared at the Chief defiantly. "I want them freed, regardless."

The Chief looked at her curiously for a moment. "I wonder if Your Highness has any idea of the atrocities that the prisoners have performed."

Mischa nodded. "I do. But I want them freed. And I want them given hearts, as well."

One of the elders on the right side of the Chief stiffened. "We must follow the law," he said sternly. "Even a Princess of Heart cannot change – "

"But she can," the Chief countered. "I do not agree with Her Highness's request, however we must comply."

Confusion flashed on the faces of every magistrate as the Chief raised her hand in front of her face, palm facing out; but they followed suit. The arguable man was the last to raise his hand, and he did so reluctantly.

There was an instant flash of light; Mischa spun around to see that the bars separating her and Axel had disappeared. She immediately sprinted off, and Axel held his arms out to catch her as she quickly approached.

"This is for real," he breathed in her ear as he cradled her in his arms. "We can really be together now."

There was a loud tapping coming from the Court, and Mischa turned to see that the Chief had summoned a wooden gavel and was now pounding it against the table impatiently.

"Very touching," she said crossly, "but there is still the matter of the heart."

Mischa's heart fluttered wildly, as if in assent to this remark. Axel released her, but then spun her around in front of him and locked his arms around her waist.

"This is it!" he whispered excitedly from behind her head.

Mischa grinned widely in spite of herself. How long she had been waiting to see Axel again, and now he would be real! It was almost too good to be true.

The Chief eyed the other members of the Organization, who had amassed together behind Axel and Mischa. "Her Highness has requested that the" – she paused, searching for the right word – "_delinquents_ be given hearts as well as be freed. Is this correct, Miss Tatsuyo?"

Mischa nodded stiffly, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on the back of her head. "It is."

"According to our laws, hearts may only be created by a Princess of Heart. Which means, obviously, that you have the authorization to do so.

"However," she continued, leaning forward in her seat, "you must surely realize that hearts do not simply grow on trees."

Axel's arms tightened around her waist suddenly. "_No!"_ he hissed through his teeth.

Mischa craned her neck around to look at him, puzzled. He glared at her murderously. "No, Mischa," he whispered urgently. "Please don't do it!"

She turned back around to look up at the Chief. "Do what, Your Honor?"

A smile flitted across the Chief's flabby face. "A heart can split in two when it is done with an act of truest devotion," she said slowly, "but to split it into twelve other pieces can only be done with a heart made of as much power as yours."

"Split?" echoed Mischa, stricken. Split her heart? How in the world did one go about doing something like that?

"What does your heart truly desire?" asked one of the members of the Court. "To be with him, or to be a part of his world?"

There was a brief silence, interrupted by murmurs from the Organization behind her, as Mischa puzzled over this. Being with Axel would require being a part of his world, which would require her becoming a member of the Organization as well. This she did not mind. In fact, a part of her had always wanted it. The idea of there being a real, living Organization, complete with real, beating hearts, that she could be a part of warmed her heart. It was the only way.

"I'll do it," said Mischa resolutely. "The Organization is going to have hearts."

* * *

Author's Note: Yay Organization! :D I've been so looking forward to bring them back. I have a few ideas for the rest of the story, as far as plot twists go, so hopefully I'll have more time to write. Hasta la vista!

P.S. Chapter song – "Speeding Cars" by Imogen Heap (this song inspired me A LOT)


	7. Eet

Author's Note: WHOO! Lots of schoolwork lately. :P This is a longer chapter, so I hope it'll make up for the wait. :)

* * *

"Superior."

Xemnas turned his head at the sound of his title, expecting to see Zexion. He was sure that Zexion knew that he, Xemnas, was aware of their little plan to bring Axel's girl to the afterlife. He didn't know the details, of course, and was hoping that Zexion might have the obedience to inform him.

He also knew that Vexen had been involved with killing the girl – he cringed; his new heart made it difficult to think about such vulgar things so easily – and that Mischa Tatsuyo had not died a natural death. Vexen's alchemy skills were second to none, even now, and he could easily have come up with a potion that would destroy her. Combined with one of Zexion's spells and Axel's fiery determination, the poor girl never had a chance.

But she was here now, in the afterlife, and visibly happy to be with Axel. There was a new castle for the Organization: the aptly named Castle That Somewhat Is. Xemnas was standing in the castle garden near the azalea bushes, which he rather preferred as his favorites. There was a slight breeze blowing in from the nearby mountainside, but it was not cold, as Xemnas did not wish it so. And, always a plus, the Organization now had hearts.

A sudden thought occurred to Xemnas as he turned to see his caller. A Princess of Heart…a shard of a royal heart…its powers available to only those who possess it…

Xemnas was suddenly not at all dismayed to find Saïx instead of Zexion standing a few feet away, looking expectant.

"Saïx," he stated, turning fully around to face him. It was an invitation to speak. Xemnas never revealed his plans outright to anyone. He gestured to the azalea bushes at his feet. "The pink ones are in season."

Saïx glanced down at the flowers thoughtfully. He had opted to keep the x-shaped scar on his face when questioned, to keep a part of himself apart from Earth. "I prefer the adonis."

Xemnas nodded. "The poisonous one, the one that is potentially fatal if consumed? Beautiful, but deadly. I am not surprised."

"The azalea is poisonous as well," Saïx pointed out. "If consumed, of course."

Xemnas smiled. "Of course. Although I presume that you have not come here to discuss botany."

"No," replied Saïx. The afterlife had made him a bit more patient. His eyes moved slowly and rested on the snow-capped mountains on the close horizon. "I wanted to discuss…matters of the Organization." He let out a long breath while Xemnas waited, looking amused. "I don't think that we belong here. It's all thanks to the girl that we're not rotting in Hell, in the darkness, right now, I know that. But we're not complete…we have hearts, yes, but what good do they do now, when we will never grow older, never be able to live a real, human life? Anyway, I've heard rumors about a Door here…and I was thinking that perhaps we could continue our plans from Earth somehow…"

Xemnas chuckled. "Still a schemer, I see. I have half a mind to share my plan with you right now."

"You have a plan?" said Saïx abruptly. His face lit up eagerly. "Does it perhaps have anything to do with the girl?"

"Mischa," corrected Xemnas. "We must refer to her by her name if she will be a part of the Organization."

Saïx waved his hand in a careless gesture. "She cannot be a member of the Organization. She is not a Nobody."

"And neither are we," said Xemnas with a crooked smile, "now that we have hearts."

Saïx's brow furrowed in thought. "_Her_ heart," he said dubiously. "We all of us have pieces of her heart. These hearts are not our own."

"But they are hers," pressed Xemnas. "And she is a Princess of Heart."

It took Saïx only a few seconds to process this. "We have the power to open the Door," he said in a hushed voice. "We can release the power of Kingdom Hearts. And – "

"And we have the power to return to Earth," finished Xemnas quietly. "For a second chance." He looked at Saïx levelly. "Although the hearts belong to us, the whole power belongs to her. Therefore, you see, Saïx, my comrade, Mischa is vital to our plan. She must join the Organization, and she must be utterly loyal to us."

"She will be loyal to Axel," mused Saïx. "And he is loyal to no one."

"Oh, I think he is loyal to Mischa," Xemnas disagreed lightly. "They are loyal to each other. And if Mischa is to allow us to return to Earth and hatch our plan there, we must play on their loyalty."

Saïx looked doubtful. "How, though?" he asked absently. "We could kidnap her…but they share hearts. He would be able to find her in an instant."

Xemnas nodded. "He could find her," he replied with a bitter smile. "But that does not mean that he could save her."

---

"I have to run some errands," Axel announced over the noise.

Mischa had only been in the afterlife for a little over a week and already she had stricken up an unlikely friendship with Demyx, Axel's fellow Organization comrade. She had immediately taken to Demyx's free spirit, and Demyx had immediately taken to Mischa's lack of experience with things such as root beer floats and video games. After watching Axel and him polish off a twelve-pack of root beer and a carton of vanilla ice cream that was about the size of one of her old dollhouses back on Earth, Mischa was intrigued.

"Doesn't all that sugar make you feel at all ill?" she had asked kindly, gingerly picking up the paper cups that were covered in white foam littered all over the floor of her and Axel's room in the Organization's castle. The other two had been seated on two fluffy chaises that Mischa had picked out herself just a day ago, furiously clicking away at their game consoles and watching the flat television screen intently.

Demyx let out a loud belch, and Axel waved the smell away with a carefree laugh. "We can't get sick here, remember?"

"We can't?" Mischa had replied with mock uncertainty. She had produced a map from inside her boot, which was quite worn from her opening and refolding it numerous times in order to figure out where things were in this afterlife. She had opened it up again and scanned it quickly. "Then why is there a Healing Center just down the road?"

The two men had frozen.

"Crap, she's right," muttered Demyx, his hand flying to his bloated stomach.

"Well, we can't die," said Axel, unconcerned. "So what's wrong with getting a little sick?"

Axel had been groaning in bed for the next two days, cringing whenever Mischa brought him food. Demyx, however, had recovered fairly quickly and was back the next day, challenging Mischa to a video game about shooting mushrooms. Mischa had beaten him in every round except one while Axel looked on bleakly from the bed. Mischa thoroughly enjoyed the concept of video games and wondered how she had never discovered them back on Earth.

"Yoroido is a rotting fish village," said Demyx bluntly, when Mischa had voiced her concern. "I'll bet you a million munny you've never seen a TV on Earth, either."

Mischa had shaken her head. "My cousin from America told me a bit about them, though."

Today, Axel was finally up and feeling better, and he loudly declared his need to run some errands.

"Errands?" asked Mischa, pressing the button that stops the game and turning around to face him. Demyx pouted, for he had been winning, and glared at Axel for the distraction.

"Yeah." He backed towards the door, hand on the knob. "You sort of can't know about it yet."

"Yet?" retorted Mischa suspiciously. "And why not?"

Demyx looked away pointedly, his lips pressed tightly together to keep from smiling. Axel grinned. "It's a surprise. I'll see you later!"

The door shut and Axel was gone. Mischa turned slowly to glare at Demyx. "What do you know?" she demanded.

Demyx grinned and shrugged innocently. "He said it was a surprise." When Mischa's expression did not soften, he laughed. "Don't worry, Misch. You'll be really happy about it, trust me."

Before Mischa could respond, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," she called, still watching Demyx skeptically.

The door opened swiftly and Zexion's head appeared around it. "Mischa," he said quietly. His voice was usually very quiet, and Mischa was already somewhat accustomed to straining to hear him speaking. He glanced at Demyx, then back at Mischa. "Could I borrow you for a bit?"

"Me?" asked Mischa, a little surprised. Zexion was the type who usually kept to himself. Demyx watched him blankly.

"Yes," said Zexion. "I want to show you something, something I believe you'll enjoy."

Mischa looked at Demyx. He half-shrugged. "I'll be here."

"Okay," she said, standing up. She retrieved her purse from the table by the door.

"See you later," she called to Demyx over her shoulder as Zexion closed the door behind them.

As expected, Zexion did not say very much as Mischa followed him through the so-white-they-glowed hallways of the Castle That Currently Is. This version of the Organization's Castle actually had a grand entrance, as there was no darkness by which to travel into and out of it in the afterlife. Zexion pushed open the huge grey doors, which Mischa believed to weigh at least three hundred pounds each, and stepped aside to let Mischa walk out first.

At this time of day, Mischa would normally be out walking in the castle garden, admiring the colorful flowers and the misty mountain peaks in the distance. She would tighten her white woolen shawl around her shoulders at the chilly breeze blowing off from the mountainside and lift her face up to the warm sunshine.

A few days ago, she had encountered Larxene out there near the petunias. Larxene had been bent over a plot of blue petunias, sunhat on head and trowel in hand. Mischa, remembering what Axel had told her about Larxene being coldhearted and vicious, had tried to tiptoe away before she was noticed.

"Oh, Mischa!" called Larxene. Mischa had tried very hard not to cringe upon being discovered, and thus wound up looking like she had a bad stomachache as she turned around to face Larxene.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Larxene," she said quickly. "I was just walking…"

"No problem," replied Larxene, straightening. In her other, trowel-less hand, Mischa saw that Larxene was holding a small blue pot with a petunia and quite a lot of dirt. "I was actually hoping I would find you here."

"You were?" asked Mischa carefully. She had begun hoping that Larxene would not come any closer. "Did you…need something?"

Larxene had smiled. She had not seemed as horrible as Axel had described her. "No. I wanted to thank you…for my heart."

"Oh," said Mischa faintly. "Oh. Yes. You're…you're welcome. Yes."

Larxene had pursed her lips. "Axel told you that I was a bitch, didn't he?"

"He may have said something like that," Mischa had admitted. She braced herself for the explosion that Axel had warned her would occur, but Larxene just smiled serenely.

"I was mean back on Earth," she had explained. "But the afterlife sort of changed me."

"Changed?" repeated Mischa, wondering whether she had heard Larxene correctly.

"Well, yeah," said Larxene, shifting from one foot to the other and brushing some of her curled blond hair from her face with the back of her hand. Mischa did not know what Larxene had looked like on Earth, for Sora had eliminated her before Mischa had even learned of the secret worlds. Here, her hair was worn half up in large ringlets, and her eyes were an alert, bright green. They were well accentuated by the green leaves in her pink and yellow flowered sundress and gold gladiator sandals with sparkling emeralds. "I mean, once you have everything you want, what's there to be unhappy about?"

Mischa nodded, unconvinced. Axel knew Larxene much better than she did, and he said that Larxene was 'pure evil and couldn't change if her life depended on it.' "You do look nice," she had offered feebly.

"Thank you," she had murmured in response. She had then gestured toward the castle with the pot in her hand. "I'd better get this petunia back to Marluxia." She had trotted briskly past Mischa. "See you around," she had called over her shoulder.

As Mischa was remembering this encounter, Zexion had led her to a red suspended car by the bank of the castle's peninsula.

"We're going into town," he explained, wrenching open the sliding door and gestured for her to enter first. Once Zexion was inside and the door had been re-shut, the car lurched forward – Mischa gripped the handrail tightly to avoid falling over – and they began coasting across the bay.

"What happened to the boats?" Mischa wanted to know. Just yesterday she and Axel had ridden in a small wooden boat across the water to the town to buy some food from the market. "And when did this monorail get here?"

"Last night," replied Zexion. He then laughed, a sound Mischa had never heard before. "We got this car because Lexaeus announced that he was afraid of water."

"Lexaeus?" repeated Mischa, thinking of the tall, muscular, brooding, intimidating member of the Organization. "Afraid of water?"

"Of drowning," he specified. "Apparently he hasn't yet learned how to swim."

Mischa stifled a laugh. She had been swimming in the ocean since she was two years old; then again, her childhood must have been much different than Lexaeus'.

"It's sad," agreed Zexion. "So many things to be afraid of, and he chooses one of the basest elements. It's almost as sad as being afraid of the dark."

"Maybe I could teach him," Mischa suggested quietly, avoiding this last remark.

The rest of the ride continued in silence. Mischa watched the approaching shore with apprehension, wondering if Axel knew where she was. Demyx would surely tell him when he returned from whatever he was doing.

"What's Axel planning?" she asked aloud. Zexion chuckled quietly.

"I believe it is a secret."

Mischa blushed, unaware that she had said anything. "Oh. Right."

Zexion glanced sideways at her as the car reached the other bank and screeched to a halt. "I know what it is. You'll enjoy it, really." He opened the door, brushing some of his messy blue hair out of his face. "After you."

Mischa kept a sharp watch, hoping to see Axel at one of the shops in the marketplace, but had no such luck. She slowed her pace as she followed Zexion through the busy marketplace, expecting him to stop at one of them, but he continued to dart past people with shopping baskets. Soon Mischa realized that they were not in the marketplace anymore, and they had stepped onto wooden planks. The end of the dock was obscured by quite a lot of fog.

"Where - ?" began Mischa.

"Don't stop," instructed Zexion, glancing back at her. "Just keep going."

She obeyed him and kept walking, the fog enveloping her in a haze of whiteness. For a moment Mischa had the elated feeling that she was inside of a cloud.

Then, she began to hear voices. Just the slightest whispers of sound, the breeze carrying them away just as quickly as they came. Mischa did not recognize them, but they were strange yet familiar at the same time.

The white mist slowly began to dissipate, and Mischa found herself at the end of a dock with about a dozen black sightseeing binoculars lined up along the edge. There were seagulls soaring against the current of the cool air, and dolphins leaping up through the soft rolls of waves on the cerulean blue ocean.

"Mischa," murmured Zexion from one of the binoculars to her left. "Welcome to the Discernment Deck." He gestured for her to come over to his binoculars. "Insert a coin into the slot and watch."

"Watch what?" asked Mischa, glancing out to the horizon-less ocean while fishing around in her purse for a coin. "Dolphins?"

A small smile played on Zexion's lips. "You will see."

Mischa cautiously flipped the coin into the slot and glanced once at Zexion, who nodded encouragingly, and pressed her eyes up to the cushioned eye sockets of the binoculars.

The scene played out like a movie screen before her eyes. A sunny day, a quaint little cottage near the beach, a woman sitting at the kitchen table with her husband, drinking tea. It only took Mischa a second to realize that these people were her mother and father.

Her stomach felt as though it had been folded over like an omelet. She had been so focused on her new life with Axel and the Organization that she had almost completely forgotten about her old one. Her mother's face was devoid of any make-up; her hair was straggly and uncombed. Her eyes lacked its usual twinkle and her lips were dry and parched. Mischa painfully watched as Kikisui, her eyes darting crazily around the room, brought the expensive china teacup to her lips. Her father, on his cushion across the low table, lowered his cup and looked in her direction, his eyes unfocused. She suddenly froze as her eyes landed on a framed painting of Mischa and her parents in the garden outside their house behind him, grip the cup's handle tightly, and whipped it across the room. It made contact with the wall with a loud crash, a few inches under the painting. Brown liquid dripped down the eggshell walls.

Mischa's father snapped back to focus and rushed over to his wife, who had now begun to wail brokenly.

"She was only nineteen, Hideki!" she screeched, her eyes scrunched up as Hideki wrapped his arms around her torso and cradled her gently. "She had her whole life…it isn't fair, Hideki! _IT ISN'T FAIR_!"

"Shhh, Kikisui," he murmured, stroking her hair. He tenderly kissed both of her eyelids. "I know, sweetheart, I know." His eyes drifted up to the ceiling. "She's in a better place…"

The scene suddenly changed. Mischa was looking in the noodle shop, where she had so often snacked on the Shirataku noodles in various sauces (the shop boasted a different flavor for every day of the week). The binoculars zoomed in on two people sitting in the corner of the shop, one a male and one a woman.

" – planning the funeral," said Marjorie, Mischa's American cousin, her blue eyes looking red and tired. Her shoulder-length dark red hair was swept back into a messy bun and her make-up had been hastily applied. "It is very kind of you to help us out."

"She was going to be my wife," replied the man, whom Mischa recognized immediately as Ryo. "Of course I would help out with the celebration of her memory."

Marjorie stirred her noodles; which, Mischa noted, were the ones in the crab sauce, which was Mischa's favorite. "Do you miss her at all?" she asked, glancing up at him curiously from across the tiny table.

Ryo stared down at his own noodles, which were in the shrimp sauce. "It is very unfortunate," he remarked after a moment. "Though, to be honest, we had just barely met…"

"I know." Marjorie nodded slowly. "We only saw each other once or twice a year, on account of living on two different continents. She was always my favorite cousin."

"Why's that?"

"She wasn't like the others," replied Marjorie absently. "She was never like Aunt Kiki. She was quiet and humble, like Uncle Hideki, her dad. She was one of those people whom you could talk to if you wanted, but if you didn't, she didn't press you, and it wasn't awkward or anything."

"She liked to be alone," Ryo observed.

Marjorie shrugged noncommittally. "That's just who she was."

Ryo's face became quite blank. "I had a nice life planned for us," he said thoughtfully.

Marjorie looked at him curiously. She reached across and placed her hand lightly over his. "I'm sure you did."

His brow furrowed. "It's just…it always seemed like she was unhappy with me. Like she was…hiding something from me."

"Like what?"

"Like…like there was someone else."

"Someone else?" asked Marjorie incredulously. She shook her head. "That doesn't sound like Mischa."

Ryo shrugged. "Perhaps it was just a feeling, then." He glanced up at the ceiling, his usually smoothed black hair slightly mussed. "I hope she's found what she's looking for…"

Mischa leaned back from the binoculars. How much she had missed in such a short time! Her chest felt tight, and she truly did not want to see any more of her family's misery back on Earth. However, there was one more thing she did want to know.

"I'll see you at the Tatsuyos' tomorrow morning," said Chiyo, Mischa's mother's friend, solemnly to her friend Amaka as they parted ways outside the noodle shop. "For the funeral. It should be very…very…"

"Interesting," finished Amaka.

---

As Mischa walked into the castle throne room that evening, a new white throne had sprung up from the floor. She was officially a member of the Organization: the new Number 13.

She was congratulated, of course. The afterlife had changed some of the members' attitudes towards her, including Saïx, who had been her former bitter enemy back on Earth. She supposed a heart could change even the basest of evil creatures.

The meeting had been mostly organizational; that is, introducing the newest member and setting some ground rules.

"We're dead," Luxord had remarked flatly. "What difference do rules make?"

"We're not gone," replied Xemnas, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Not yet."

Mischa had glanced over at Axel after this comment, who had shrugged, looking bored.

"Any form of treason will not be tolerated–" Xemnas' gaze had lingered on Axel, who stared back at him defiantly "–and this Organization will be no such anarchy."

Xemnas had then turned to Mischa, his arms spread grandly. "And here is our star: the woman who granted our most dearest wish. For giving us our hearts, we thank you, Mischa."

Mischa could care less about the others' gratitude, for theirs was most likely not entirely sincere. She delighted in Axel's smile having been the biggest.

After chatting with Luxord for a few moments, and as she and Axel were leaving the throne room behind everyone else and heading back to their own quarters, a thought suddenly struck Mischa like a bolt of lightning. She turned abruptly, ducked under Axel's arm, and darted down the hallway towards the entryway with the door hanging ajar.

"Wha – " sputtered Axel, whipping his head around.

"Saïx!" exclaimed Mischa breathlessly, hovering in the doorway. The blue-haired man was seated in a silver chair near his white bed, reading intently from a book, but looked up at the mention of his name.

"Mischa," he said tonelessly, closing the book and rising to his feet. "Did you need something?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes. I want to ask you something."

Saïx looked at her expectantly and made a gesture with his hand that she took to mean, "well, go on."

"My parents," she said. "Why did you take them away from me for three years?"

Saïx gave a small smile. "Ah."

Axel suddenly appeared by her side. "Misch, c'mon," he said quietly. "Don't bother with him."

"No," she retorted. "I want to know why." She turned back to Saïx, who seemed to be considering whether or not to tell her.

"Three years ago," he began slowly, as if weighing each word, "was when Ansem the Wise first discovered your world. It was about the same time as when his six apprentices, including the Superior himself, performed the experiment that created their Nobodies, and, in turn, Organization XIII. After the experiment and his creation, the Superior decided to look into your world, because it was the only one which Ansem the Wise had not yet explored. It was then that he discovered you, Mischa: The Eighth Princess of Heart. No one, not even Ansem the Wise and the large-eared King, knew about the power of your heart prior to his discovery.

"You were the key to our greatest ambition: conquering Kingdom Hearts," he continued, a faraway gleam in his eye. "He knew we had to get hold of you somehow, but he also knew that you were young and sheltered by your parents; not the type of person readily able to do what we needed. You needed to learn how to be tough. Not just in fighting, but in personality as well. We needed you to grow a shell, so to speak. An emotional shell that would prevent you from becoming useful to anyone else.

"The trick was, of course, to kidnap your parents, which was easy enough. However, if you knew they had been kidnapped, you would undoubtedly be angry. Anger is good. But pain is better, because it allows the heart to build up a wall against anything that should hurt it more. And you would not be hurt if you knew that they were still alive."

Saïx paused, allowing Mischa to process this.

"But," said Mischa, still confused, "why three years?"

"Because any sooner would have meant that the wounds would still be fresh," said Saïx smoothly. "A gash leaves one vulnerable; but when a scab forms, it covers the gash, protecting it from outside forces. Since losing both your parents is such an emotional blow, a year or even two years would not have nearly been enough to protect you." He surveyed her through slightly narrowed eyes. "Obviously, three was not enough, either."

"Of course it wasn't enough," said Axel sardonically. "They're her parents!"

"And that's all true?" asked Mischa, looking at him levelly. "You swear it's true?"

Saïx gave a curt nod. "On my life."

Axel clicked his tongue. "You know, I don't think that's worth very much these days."

Saïx chuckled humorlessly. "On the contrary, my friend. Our lives are worth even more now that your lady friend has arrived."

Both Axel and Mischa looked at him, stricken. "What do you mean?" demanded Mischa. "What did I do?"

Saïx inclined his head in respect. "You gave us hearts."

"Oh," said Mischa. "Oh, I knew that part. But why does that make your lives more valuable?"

Saïx's eyebrows furrowed. "Didn't you hear anything the Superior had to say?"

"Nothing I haven't heard before," replied Axel with an eye roll. "And nothing Mischa needs to worry about. This is supposed to be _our_ life." He reached around her back and cupped his hand on her shoulder. "Right, Misch?"

"Yes," said Mischa faintly. Saïx's words had sent a strange shiver up her spine that made her uncomfortable. She trusted Axel; but what did the rest of the Organization have up their sleeves?

She suddenly found herself afraid to find out.

* * *

Author's Note: SUSPENSE! we shall see what happens to our dear Mischa soonly (hopefully -_-). :D

Chapter song – "Eet" by Regina Spektor


	8. Atlantic

Author's Note: So between constant computer troubles (including hard drive crashes and virus attacks) and lack of inspiration, this chapter took quite a while to complete. However, now that I'm done making excuses (which are totally true), here's the next chapter! :D

* * *

In a far corner of Disney Castle, King Mickey was tossing and turning restlessly in his sleep.

His wife the Queen watched him forlornly from her side of the royal four-poster bed they shared. She knew what he was seeing. She had seen him like this before: knuckles white from gripping his pillow, eyes squeezed shut, face ghostly pale and dripping with sweat…

It was all too familiar to Minnie, who had one day woken up to an empty bed and a quiet castle. She had walked through the halls of the palace with a soothing smile on her face for the servants and subjects while inside her heart was crumbling to bits. She had met her dear friend Daisy out in the courtyard gardens and chattered about the lovely petunias and what a magnificent job the royal gardeners had done with the hedges, while inside she was thinking the darkest of thoughts. And moments later, when she would stumble upon Goofy and Donald in the gardens and learn what had really happened to her King, she had held her head up high and assumed control of the kingdom, like a good queen should have done.

The first time it had all happened, she had wondered. She had heard all of the tales about the Darkness and the Door and been shown the invaluable Cornerstone of Light by King Mickey himself, and she had wondered that maybe, just maybe, Mickey's dark dreams were being caused by something outside of her control. Being the queen of a kingdom does not do much good when she could only sit helplessly while the one she loves must suffer.

Minnie's husband was a King; the finest king that ever lived, in her humble opinion. Thus it was for this reason that he had to leave. He had to find the boy with the key to the Door and save the worlds from the Dark powers. Minnie had known this. It did not, however, soften the heartbroken blow she felt when she awoke to find him already gone, with no clear intention of ever coming back.

This time, though, Minnie was prepared. This time, she did not jump as Mickey let out a shuddering gasp and bolted upright, his eyes wide and staring at something invisible to her. She patted his back softly as he breathed heavily, in and out, in and out.

"It's all right, dear," she said quietly. "It was only a dream." Even though she knew perfectly well that it was anything but.

As expected, Mickey shook his head vehemently, still hyperventilating and shaking rather like a leaf. "Xemnas," he hissed. "No, no no. 'Snot a dre – dre –he's back, Minnie. He's back! I'm sure of it! And 'snot gonna be – he can't be defeated this time 'round, Minnie! There's – he's got –"

"But he doesn't have a heart, Mickey!" exclaimed Minnie, doubt creeping into her voice despite her exasperation. "He…he can't! When Sora and Riku defeated him, he faded into the darkness! The only way he can be undefeatable is if he has a very powerful heart…"

Mickey gulped and leaned back against his beaten pillows, looking a little less pale. "He has to have one. Otherwise, he'd still be a Nobody and he'd be just as defeatable as the rest of 'em. And there's no way he'd be able to come back to life unless…"

"Somebody's helping him," Minnie finished. "Someone with enough power to do so."

Mickey's gaze traveled up to the high golden canopy above them. "The rest of the Organization must be coming back, too," he mused. "Xemnas wouldn't do it again all alone."

Minnie shook her head. "They shouldn't be coming back, though," she said. "Thanks to Sora, the Nobodies faded into the darkness, and all of the common folk around the worlds were supposed to forget about everything. It was all supposed to go back to the way it was before…"

"It has, for the most part." Mickey nodded, mostly to himself. "The only people with a chance of rememberin' are me, you, Sora, Riku, Kairi, Goofy and Donald, and…and…gosh, I can't remember who the other girl was…"

The King and Queen both froze, staring at the images in their minds of the blue-eyed Princess of Heart with a Keyblade and a pink kimono.

"I can't remember, either," said Minnie faintly. She looked over at her husband and knew from his calculating gaze that this conversation was not going to end the way she had hoped it would.

"It has to be her," said Mickey, pounding his fist firmly on the blanket. "She was really close to Axel, and she's a Princess of Heart. Don'tcha remember?"

"I remember," replied Minnie quietly.

"I think I gotta go and find her and sort this all out before it gets outta hand."

Minnie nodded and did not sigh. She knew it would do no good to protest. She had been so happy to have the King back after his long absence; but she also knew that she would have to be a good queen and miss him all over again.

* * *

Mischa was watching from the window seat of her old bedroom as her parents prepared to lay her body to rest.

Her earthen self was on the bed, skin as pale as concrete and lips as blue as the ocean. She looked so peaceful, she could have been asleep. There was no blood; no evidence of the death Mischa knew that body had experienced. The coroners had done a thorough job of cleaning up.

Her mother and father were both perched on either side on the bed, each with one knee rested on the floor. Her father held a wet cloth above her dead body's mouth.

"_Matsugo-no-mizu,"_ he murmured. "Water of the Last Moment."

_Flick_. Kikisui took a lighter, singed the ends of a few sticks of incense, and placed them on a low table next to the bed. Mischa was grateful that she was unable to smell the heavy blue smoke that wafted from the ends. Her mother then slowly reached forward and brushed a strand of Mischa's hair behind her left ear.

"This is it, Hideki," said Kikisui. "Our baby is gone for good." She pursed her lips. "My _hime_."

Mischa was shocked to hear her mother speak so reasonably about such an emotional and tear-inducing subject, especially in the privacy of her own home where no one besides Hideki would see her grieve. But, as both her parents stood up, Mischa realized that her mother was trying to put on a strong face, for the funeral was today.

As her parents silently left the room through the screen door, Mischa lingered for a moment to see what had changed. Everything about her bedroom was the same as it was when she had lived there; her low bed still had its cream-colored sheets, the lightwood headboard still pressed up against the cream walls. The floors were also made of lightwood, though Mischa had never liked them. Their shininess had irritated her, as if their lack of wear had implied that no one had ever inhabited the room. Her eyes traveled across the floor to the hem of a white gown hanging from a wooden hanger on the closet's screen door. Mischa's heartstrings pulled as she took in the full view of her wedding dress: the ripped corset, the torn ribbons, and the numerous large bloodstains splattered across the torso. The dress had been her grandmother's; it had survived decades inside of her grandmother's cedar closet over in America, but Mischa had managed to ruin in it just a few moments.

She heard soft voices from the other side of her bedroom door, like whispers floating down a silent alleyway. They were not the voices of her parents. Some neighbors must have come by the house to accompany her parents to the temple.

Mischa was suddenly standing in the kitchen of her former home, at the head of the low table. Her parents were seated on the cushions, her father at the opposite head of the table from where Mischa was, her mother on his left. There were two other women there, who Mischa recognized as her mother's friends Chiyo and Amaka.

"Dreadful," said Amaka, sipping her tea slowly. "Absolutely heart-wrenching."

"Tragic," agreed Chiyo.

"Thank you both for coming here today," said Kikisui. Mischa was unaccustomed to hearing her mother speak so professionally, especially to her own friends. "Mischa would have appreciated your support of Hideki and me through this difficult time."

Mischa's father raised an eyebrow at his wife but said nothing; evidently he was just as surprised as Mischa was at Kikisui's calm tone.

Kikisui looked at both of her friends levelly and attempted a smile; it came out as more of a grimace. "Whenever you're ready, we should be going soon."

Mischa turned and looked out the nearest window, the one above the sink, facing the beach. The sun had begun to set and people had begun trudging up the sand banks with their blankets and pails toward the street outside the Tatsuyos' cottage. She wondered how many of them would show up at her funeral.

When she turned back to the table, her parents and Amaka and Chiyo had left the kitchen and were heading out the front door. Mischa seemingly floated through the closed screen door and followed soundlessly as the four black kimono-clad friends made their way to the temple, which was behind the marketplace.

In the back of her mind, Mischa wondered what she should make for dinner tonight. Shrimp? Salad? Shrimp salad? No, Axel was getting tired of shrimp…

The temple loomed into view and Mischa followed her parents inside. The citizens of Yoroido had already begun to arrive; Mischa glanced around at all of the solemn, unfamiliar faces. A child that she had babysat for once began to cry and Mischa suddenly wished that she was not invisible.

" – wonder when that guy's going to show up," whispered Amaka from behind Mischa.

"Who?" asked Chiyo in a low voice. Evidently Mischa's parents had already sat down near the casket. "The fiancé?"

"Yes, him," replied Amaka. "Ryo something-or-other." She thought for a moment. "Fukuda," she amended. "Ryo Fukuda."

"The businessman?" Chiyo frowned. "I never could quite picture Mischa-san with him."

"Yes, well, I've noticed he's been spending quite a bit of time with the American."

Chiyo raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Oh, the redhead? She's pretty…"

Amaka rolled her eyes at her friend. "The redhead is Mischa-san's cousin, Chiyo. Isn't that a little strange?"

"Maybe they're just grieving together." Chiyo shrugged noncommittally. "It's not uncommon."

"Technically he isn't married," Amaka continued quietly, "because Mischa – God bless her soul – she croaked before she could consent – "

"Ladies," said Ryo smoothly, "could we save the gossip for after the funeral? It isn't very respectful to the dead in such a spiritual place, you know."

Amaka and Chiyo spun around and gaped at Ryo in shock. He fought back a smile and Mischa laughed. The women quickly recovered and trotted off to the pews, Chiyo blushing furiously and Amaka swearing under her breath.

Ryo stuffed his hands into his black kimono pockets and chuckled to himself. He did not look any different than he had at the wedding a week prior, except that there were bags under his eyes that were not worth trying to conceal. His face suddenly lit up, and Mischa turned to see the object of his attention.

At first she saw nothing but a blown-up picture of herself propped up against the wall behind a small donations jar. Her parents had chosen the picture; it had been taken about a year ago. She had been sitting outside beneath the cherry blossom tree, trying to read an English book Marjorie had brought her from America, when her mother had come outside and had asked her to pose for a picture. Her elbow was resting on her bent knee, the back of her hand holding up her head, which was turned at an angle with her long, coffee-brown hair spilling over her shoulders. A few strands of hair framed her pale face and her bright blue eyes sparkled with a brilliant smile.

Then Mischa saw what had really caught Ryo's eye. Marjorie had entered the temple carrying a large bouquet of white lilies, pink lotuses, and a few sweet pea flowers. Mischa recognized the flowers' Hanakotoba meanings: the lilies and lotuses meant purity, and the sweet peas meant 'goodbye.' Ryo had quickly migrated over to Marjorie and kissed her hand gently.

"Good day, Marjorie," he said in fluent English. "I am happy to see you."

Marjorie sniffed, her eyes already brimming with tears. "It's nice to see you too, Ryo." She looked past his wondering gaze to the head of the chapel, where the guests had begun to take their seats. "I suppose we should go sit with Aunt Kiki and Uncle Hideki now…"

Ryo nodded once, curtly. "Yes, of course." He held out his arm for her to grip and his other hand to carry the flower bouquet. At the head of the temple, Marjorie sat down next to Kikisui, who promptly gripped her hand. Ryo placed the bouquet onto the casket, then circled around the pews and sat down next to Marjorie.

Mischa watched from the end of the aisle as the ceremony took place. A priest chanted, walking around her casket and making elaborate hand movements as he spoke. Steam rose from the dry ice in her body's casket and mingled with the smoke from the incense sticks that the guests were passing around. When she was alive, the smell of incense had always bothered Mischa; but, since it was tradition in Yoroido, she had never had the heart to ask her parents to stop lighting it. The priest was still chanting. Mischa turned to the small table beneath her enormous picture and peeked in the donations. Many of the special black and white envelopes were quite fat; Mischa wondered how much _yen_ her neighbors would have been willing to contribute to her name. She wondered if she even knew any of them.

She heard the rustling of kimono behind her and realized the funeral had ended. She had not gotten to hear her _kanji_ name, her new name that would prevent her spirit from being called back to life.

She was a _hime_, though, a princess. The Magistral Court had told her that she could return to her life on Earth if she so chose. She could pop out of that casket, she thought as she watched her parents and Ryo and Marjorie disappear behind the wall of standing guests, she could tell everyone that she was here, she was alive, she could tell her family how sorry she was to have not been stronger…

She would have to marry Ryo…

Her parents, Ryo and Marjorie made their way through the crowd of guests effortlessly, as if the sea of people was parting for them. Ryo took Marjorie's hand and placed it on the inside of his elbow as they walked. Marjorie's eyes were puffy and looked rather like the color of her hair, but Mischa still thought she was beautiful. Her beautiful, American cousin Marjorie that had always been wonderful to her. She had always sent Mischa birthday cards and holiday gifts, even though the cost of shipping overseas was astronomical. Although Mischa had always returned the favor, it had always touched her that Marjorie had never forgotten her, though they lived miles apart.

Mischa followed her family outside. Many guests shaded their eyes at the sudden bright sunlight, but of course the change did not affect Mischa. As her parents thanked the guests, Mischa floated over to where Ryo and Marjorie were talking quietly amongst themselves by the temple wall.

"I am leaving tomorrow morning," said Marjorie regretfully. Her voice sounded woefully nasal from crying.

"Back to America?" asked Ryo, again in English. His tone was level but his eyes gave away his sadness at her departure. "Are you…when are you returning?"

"Soon." She nodded to herself. "I'm going back to my home in America to pack up my stuff."

Ryo blinked and furrowed his brow, confused.

Marjorie laughed once. "I'm coming back here to stay with Uncle Hideki and Aunt Kiki. To help out. Now that they're…alone."

Mischa's stomach flipped over and she tasted copper in her mouth. She had left her parents all alone…and now Marjorie was giving up her life to do what Mischa should be doing…

"That is…very kind of you, Marjorie," replied Ryo in awe. Mischa could tell that he could hardly contain his excitement. "So…once you return from America, you will be staying here for quite a while, yes?"

"Yes," said Marjorie with a smile. "Not to take Mischa-san's place, of course."

"No one could do that…" said Ryo automatically. He lightly grabbed Marjorie's hand. "Marjorie-san, you are…" He bit his lip, searching for the right English word. "You are a beautiful person." He gazed at her, and slowly leaned his head towards her. Marjorie took a small step back and smiled politely at him.

"Too soon," was all she said.

* * *

Axel stood at the opposite end of the dock, next to a vacant pair of binoculars. He leaned back against the cold metal rail as the sea breeze tousled his spiky red hair, watching something in the distance. An elder-looking gentleman hobbled over to the binoculars next to Axel, shot a dirty look at his flaming hair, and slid a coin into the slot.

Axel paid no attention to the man. He was watching Mischa watching her own funeral through a set of binoculars on the other side of the dock. There were some quiet footsteps, and Zexion appeared next to him.

"It upsets her to watch that," said Axel. "I don't understand why she's watching it. I mean, doesn't it hurt?"

"It's called closure," explained Zexion. "She loved her family; she needed to see them one last time before she could move on."

"Are you sure?" asked Axel in a hushed voice. "You're sure that's all?"

"It's completely natural for a human to miss her family." Zexion raised an eyebrow at his comrade. "But I suppose you and I don't understand that kind of thing, though, do we?"

"What if it's not the last time she comes here, though?" Axel bit his lip. "People get addicted to these things, you know."

"I am aware," said Zexion. "Mischa is a strong girl, though. You must have faith in her and be patient. Unless, of course, you're having doubts…"

"Not me," replied Axel firmly. "I'm just afraid that she might, you know, have doubts. After watching that."

"You could send her back," said Zexion wistfully. "Her heart has the power to reinstate her to human life."

"Reinstate?" Axel laughed. "You make it sound like life is a job position."

Zexion looked at Axel seriously. "It is, essentially. Human life is where Mischa belongs."

"But she was unhappy with her life on Earth," Axel protested.

"Perhaps she is just as unhappy here."

"That's mainly why I decided to bring her here. That's why I ended up in the Magistral prison, two steps away from being sentenced to the darkness for all eternity. I took a huge risk in bringing her here and I'm not about to let her go now."

Zexion shrugged. "I know how the story went, Axel. The rest of us paid for your risk as well." Axel blushed and looked down at the wooden planks in shame. "I also know that when Mischa came here, she saved us from our sentence and allowed us to live here forever. For that I owe her my life, for what it's worth." Axel looked back up at him. "While I am rather fond of Mischa and would not like to see her leave us, it is not our feelings that we need to consider here."

"It's how _she_ feels," said Axel. He sighed. "I need to send her back, don't I?"

The two watched as Mischa pulled away from the binoculars with obvious effort and wiped her hand across her eyes.

"We shall see," said Zexion.

* * *

Author's Note: Due to the fact that I don't trust both my computer and my imagination, I won't make any promises regarding when the next chapter will be up. However, while I was finishing up this chapter, I got some new ideas, so I'll write them down and get crackin'. :D

Chapter song – "Atlantic" by Keane


	9. Coming to Terms

Author's Note: Yay for quick[er] updates! :D

* * *

_Dearest Mischa_,

So the letter began.

_I don't truly believe that you will get this from wherever you are, but I have just enough hope left to give it a try. I just came back from your funeral. It was probably the most difficult day since all of this heartache began on your ill-fated wedding day. I don't know why it was so hard for me – maybe because I don't want to say goodbye to you yet? Maybe I was thinking of how your mom and dad were feeling as they sat next to me with the frozen body of their only child just a few feet away? Or maybe I was hoping you would pop out of the casket and come back to us, and that this was all just a very bad dream. Today I have come to realize that this isn't a bad dream, though, and that you are like a feather, drifting somewhere just out of reach._

_At the funeral, I wondered whether you were there somewhere, or even just watching us from above. If so then I must apologize for the absence of my family. There have been some financial trouble in my home, and my parents could only afford to send me to Japan to help you with your wedding. My father was too proud to ask his brother, your father, for help, even to attend your funeral. This is one of the reasons why I have decided to stay here in Yoroido for a while, to help your parents cope with their tremendous loss. Not only can I not face my family after such disrespect, but I also feel that it is my duty to make up for what they missed out on – taking care of their family in time of crisis. I don't wish to replace you, Mischa – God knows no one could ever do that – but I hope it is okay with you if I stay in your old bedroom. I won't change anything about it, just to hold my stuff for a little while._

_There is also something else I'd like to share with you. Your former fiancé, Ryo, he is a very nice man. I must confess that I never really got to know him during your engagement because, to be honest, you never seemed very excited about the marriage. I began to think that maybe you really didn't like Ryo, and that there must have been something wrong with him to alter your judgment. Since your death, though, Ryo has really stepped up to the plate and helped out with a lot of things, including the funeral. I know I shouldn't be saying this about your former fiancé after your death, but you know me, I have to be honest. I think Ryo has taken a liking to me, and I'm not sure what to do about it. I know you would tell me to follow my heart, but my heart is telling me that Ryo was engaged to you and now you are dead. A very sticky situation, no? I will act on nothing less than your approval._

_I miss you, Mischa. I hope you are very happy, wherever you may be._

_Marjorie_

Axel carefully refolded the letter and stuck it back into its bottle. The bottle was still wet from bobbing about on the ocean, where Axel had found it moments ago. The seagulls cawed from the misty air above him as he stared at the bottle, quite unsure of what to do with it.

_It's Mischa's letter._

But it could upset her and make her want to go back to Earth.

_It's still her letter._

Axel sighed and slid the bottle into a pocket in his black robe. He will give it to her when she's ready.

He turned and headed slowly back down the dock into the usual fog that hides the other side, mind heavy with thought. Saïx leaned against the metal rails and watched Axel's retreating figure, thinking furiously. Who was that letter from, and who was it addressed to? Axel must be sneaking around the Organization's back. Oh, if he could procure this juicy piece of information, he would rise so far in the Superior's eyes! Maybe Xemnas would finally let him in on his plan. He rose to his full height, pushed some of his blue hair out of his face, and trotted as quietly as possible to catch up to Axel.

"Axel," he said, panting slightly. "How's it going?"

Axel slowed his pace and looked over at Saïx suspiciously. "Fine," he said slowly. "Just heading home."

"Gone fishing, I see?" Saïx gestured towards the conspicuous lump in Axel's robe. "Catch a big one?"

Axel stopped now and turned to face Saïx fully. Saïx did the same. "That's none of your concern, Saïx."

"Look, Axel, I know you're hiding something. A letter. From the living world." Saïx did not really know this part, but was hoping he was right. "Just tell me who it's from and who it's addressed to and I'll leave you alone."

"I don't know what you're talking about," replied Axel, not missing a beat.

"Oh, I think you do." Saïx leaned in a little closer. "I won't tell the Superior, I promise."

Axel leaned back his head and laughed a rather bark-ish laugh. "Aww man, that's some crap!"

Saïx fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"And anyway, the Superior doesn't scare me. This is my business and it has nothing to do with him."

So Axel _was_ hiding something. "It has to do with Mischa," guessed Saïx.

"It has to do with _me_." Axel jabbed his chest with his thumb.

Saïx laughed, mostly out of pride that he had just figured out Axel's ruse. "The letter is from someone in Mischa's family back on Earth, and you don't want Mischa reading it because it will upset her and make her want to leave you and return to her family." He shook his head and smiled. "You selfish bastard."

"It's none of your concern," said Axel coolly. "Why would I allow contact with the living world when it's forbidden?"

"Hmm." His smile faded. "In all seriousness, Axel, I'll make you a deal. I'll keep quiet about this letter business – and you can deny it all you want, but I know that letter is for Mischa and I know that it's forbidden – but I want something from you in return."

Axel rolled his eyes. "I gathered."

"I want you to tell me how Mischa really came here."

"She croaked," said Axel flatly. "Duh."

Saïx chuckled and shook his head. "Nineteen-year-olds don't just randomly drop dead on their wedding day."

"They do when there's a raging pandemic going on," Axel argued.

"There wasn't a pandemic going on in Yoroido, I checked." Saïx raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Unless, of course, it was an illegal kind of pandemic…"

Axel sighed under the invisible pressure of Saïx's penetrating glare. "Don't tell the Superior."

* * *

"Aha," said Xemnas. "I knew the others had been involved."

Saïx had waited around after Axel had gone back to the Castle for the Superior to come back from the village marketplace, eager to share his latest findings with his comrade. They boarded the red suspended car together and momentarily held on to the inside rails as the car lurched forward.

"So Vexen had concocted a potion that would cause a pandemic on Earth, and Zexion has cast a spell that would severely weaken Mischa's immune system, thus killing her." Xemnas nodded to himself. "And Axel had orchestrated the whole thing. If only they would redirect their skills to our cause."

"I'm sure we could convince them," replied Saïx smoothly. "Superior, there's something else you should know."

"About our dear Axel?" Xemnas chuckled. "It would be rather nice to know his secret plan ahead of time for once."

Saïx's heart felt a shudder of guilt, and he looked out the window of the car towards the mountains in the distance, feeling suddenly carsick. "He found a letter on the Discernment Deck. From the living world."

"He found it?" Xemnas raised an eyebrow. "The letter was just lying randomly on the wooden planks?"

"Well, no," said Saïx, his cheeks reddening at Xemnas' uncanny way of getting someone to be more specific. "It was floating in a bottle in the ocean, and he just snatched it up. It's addressed to Mischa."

"Ah." Xemnas looked forlornly at the looming Castle. "And is he planning on delivering it to Mischa?"

Saïx shifted his weight to his other foot. Betrayal was not as easy as it used to be now that he had a heart with which to feel it. "No. I think it's from somebody in her family, and he…he doesn't want her to be…"

"Upset," said Xemnas, a crooked smile crawling onto his face and into his red eyes. "And if she's upset, she will want to go home."

Saïx frowned. "Superior?"

"Mischa is homesick." Xemnas turned back to Saïx, looking excited. "And if she goes home, back to Earth, so will the Organization! Saïx, my friend, we must ensure that Mischa reads that letter."

"But," protested Saïx, hating himself for sounding so stupid, "what about your other plan?"

There was a brief pause and, for a split second, Xemnas looked confused. "Ah, yes. Don't worry about that. This plan is sure to work."

"But shouldn't we have another - ?" Saïx's question was drowned out by the sound of the car screeching to a halt.

Xemnas stepped carefully onto the rocky shore of the Castle. "Someone really ought to oil those," he remarked disdainfully, glancing up at the brakes. He then turned his head back towards Saïx, who was tightly clutching both sides of the car's doorway. "The letter is the key."

* * *

Zexion had called Axel up to his room. Axel sauntered down the hallway of the sixth floor of the Castle, his footsteps echoing off of the pure white walls. Each member of the Organization inhabited one floor, and Axel and Mischa currently lived on the eighth floor.

Axel had felt slightly anxious as he had trotted down the stairwell from his to Zexion's floor. He could have taken the large glass elevator in the center of the Castle, but if another member had been in there, it could have raised some unwanted questions. Besides, given his anxious feelings, Axel had wanted something to distract him, like stairs. The elevator shaft was too effortless and too open, where his thoughts could fly around his head and buzz in his ears like mosquitoes.

As Axel raised his fist to knock on Zexion's door, he felt a sort of pride bubble up within him. They were raising anarchy, he and Zexion, right under Xemnas's nose. How delicious it was, indeed.

"Enter," floated Zexion's soft voice from inside the room as Axel's knuckles made contact with the door. A tiny shiver went up Axel's spine, but he nevertheless opened the door and let himself inside.

The U-shaped interior of Zexion's room was as dark, quiet, and mysterious as Zexion himself. The walls were painted a metallic gray shade, the carpet fluffy and silver-colored, and the long, L-shaped couch was pure white with fat gray pillows. There were three enormous windows on the right side, and the long draperies that covered them were black with silver embroideries that matched the carpet. It was evening now, and bits of moonlight filtered in through the gap of the one drapery that Axel could see that was not fully closed. Along the middle wall in front of Axel was a large tapestry of a moonlit castle and some random black bookcases stuffed with novels placed high and low. The corner of the couch was backed into the right corner of the room, and on the opposite wall was an extremely large, flat television screen perched on the wall above some black shelves with some rectangular machinery. One of the machines' red lights was blinking.

"Glad you could stop by, Axel," said Zexion, who was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the couch. Axel blinked; he had not noticed him sitting there a few seconds ago when he had been surveying the room. Zexion had black reading glasses perched on his nose, half-covered by his signature blue-gray choppy hair, and a large, old-looking book in his lap. He pointed to the section of couch closest to him. "Please sit down."

Axel obliged. He could see the rest of the right side of the room now: a small, modern-looking kitchenette and a telescope peeking out through the middle tapestry. Axel sniffed; there was incense burning somewhere.

"I wanted to talk to you about something, Axel," said Zexion, slipping off his glasses and folding them onto the book in his lap. "Mischa said something about it the other day, and I've been wondering about it ever since."

"Okay," replied Axel, his brow furrowed. When had Mischa said this? And why hadn't Zexion said something sooner?

"Axel," he began carefully, "where have you been going when you leave the Castle every day?"

Axel bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at Zexion's left foot. There was a small remote peeking out from his black robes. "I've been…buying furniture, for a home for Mischa and me."

Zexion raised his eyebrows. "Interesting. How very kind of you to do such a thing. I take it you're planning on surprising Mischa?"

Axel nodded.

"And, er, how does the Superior feel about it?"

Axel's eyes traveled down to his own feet, which he scuffed against the floor uncomfortably. "I…haven't mentioned it to him yet."

"Ah."

"But it's not up to him," protested Axel. "This is my and Mischa's life now; he can't boss us around anymore."

"This home is going to be within the Castle, I presume?" asked Zexion. "On the uninhabited fourteenth floor?"

"It is," corrected Axel. "And yeah. Why not? No one's living there, and it's technically Mischa's floor anyway."

"Any reason you're leaving the thirteenth floor open?" asked Zexion coyly.

Axel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Well, unless Sora gets struck by lightning sometime soon…"

Zexion half-smiled knowingly. "Just in case, right?"

"Yeah." Axel bit his lip, clearly wishing to change the subject. "Oh, um, there's something you should probably know." He recounted his conversation with Saïx from earlier that day.

Zexion nodded slowly. "It seems Saïx has become very nosy as of late."

"He's spying for Xemnas?" guessed Axel.

"I believe so." Zexion then smiled crookedly at him. "And I forgive you for throwing Vexen and me under the bus about bringing Mischa here."

Axel laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, er, sorry about that. I just figured…the Superior would find some way of figuring it out eventually…"

"No, you're right." Zexion sighed. "Xemnas has become more powerful and more corrupted than I could have ever imagined. We need to keep a close eye on him, and Saïx too. I fear they are plotting some dangerous scheme."

"Right."

He smiled at Axel. "Thank you for telling me all of this. We'll have to keep our eyes wide open from now on. And I would suggest not allowing either the Superior or Saïx to be alone with Mischa."

Axel's brow furrowed. "You think they're involving her in their plan?"

"Perhaps. But I cannot be sure just yet."

Axel stood up. "I'll let you know if I find anything else out."

Zexion nodded. "Please do." As Axel's hand hovered over the doorknob, a sudden thought occurred to Zexion. "Wait, one more question. Are you planning on giving Mischa the letter?"

Axel froze. "Not…yet."

Zexion thought for a moment. "Whatever you think is best," he replied softly. His voice then took on an urgent tone. "However, make sure no one finds it, especially not Xemnas or Saïx."

"Right." Axel opened the door and saluted with his middle and index fingers. "See you."

* * *

Once outside, Axel reached inside his robe and patted the fold where the letter was. What better place to hide it? He then reached into his other side and patted the other fold.

No one needed to know that there were other letters. One was bad enough.

* * *

Once the door was closed and he was alone once more, Zexion picked up a remote and clicked a white button that was labeled 'rewind.' A buzzing sound erupted from a machine at the base of the large-screened television on the opposite wall. After a few seconds, he clicked the button again and the television screen fizzled to life.

The scene was slightly blurred, but Zexion could tell which camera he was looking through. It was well hidden in the top corner of the cable car outside the Castle. The Superior and Saïx were conversing, and Zexion turned up the volume slightly to hear their words.

"Just as I suspected," muttered Zexion.

In truth, Zexion was unsure on which 'side' he really was. On one hand, he had been one of the six founders of the Organization, whose purpose was to further explore the notion of hearts and to hopefully gain some for themselves. He was still a firm believer in the Organization's true purpose. However, at the same time, he felt as though Xemnas was taking it into a whole other direction; he felt that Xemnas was trying to take over the world with his new, powerful heart. Also, Saïx had used Axel to usurp Zexion as the Superior's second-in-command.

It was high time, Zexion reasoned, to exact some well-earned revenge.

* * *

Author's Note: ohh, mysterious! luckily, I have some pretty sweet ideas for this story now. :D sometimes you just gotta leave it for a while, and then you come back to it with better ideas than before. hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soonly :)

Chapter song – "Coming to Terms" by Carolina Liar


	10. Turn Out the Light

Author's Note: Phew! That took a while. I've been filling out college applications and preparing for college and such, so I don't know how often I'm going to be able to update this. I'm trying, though! :D

* * *

Disney Castle was eerily quiet in the dead of night. His Majesty the King Mickey winced with each step as the sounds of his footsteps echoed off of the gargantuan walls. His shadow grew and shrunk as he passed under the soft glow of the flickering lanterns. Someone had forgotten to blow them out.

He made his way down to the Gummi Ship Hangar, where a few ships were idling in their stations. The stench of gasoline lingered in his nose even after he had boarded his ship in the loading dock.

He stood at the command central. It had been a while since he had used one of these- before, he had just used the power of the Keyblade to travel. Everything had been different, before.

He tapped the microphone, wondering if it was turned on. "Hullo, fellas?" he inquired.

There was a yelp from somewhere above him. The screen before him fuzzed with static, and then a disheveled-looking Chip and Dale appeared on the screen.

"Sorry, Your Majesty," said Chip, bowing hastily.

"We drifted off," said Dale sheepishly.

"But we're up and at 'em now!" said Chip.

"Your wish is our command!" said Dale.

King Mickey smiled. He was going to miss them. He was going to miss everyone. "Are we ready for take-off, fellas?"

The rodents glanced at each other, bright smiles plastered on their faces. Both knew better than to question His Majesty the King's motives.

"All set, Your Majesty!" exclaimed Dale.

"Ready when you are!" said Chip.

As the ship was being elevated to the takeoff tunnel, King Mickey looked glanced up at the castle above him. A light had been turned on in his and Her Majesty the Queen's bedroom.

The King sighed. He knew that she understood. She had to.

Time generally crept by slowly in the afterlife, but the recent weeks felt as though they had passed in the blink of an eye. Mischa had been remaining quite busy. She had successfully taught Lexaeus how to swim, resulting in the reinstatement of the boats across the Castle's moat, which had previously been removed out of respect for Lexaeus' pride.

Axel was still hard at work on his secret project, which he was still successfully hiding from Mischa, and plotting an uprising with Zexion.

"So, if we're allowed to swim in the afterlife," Axel had remarked to Zexion one day during one of their discussions in Zexion's room once word spread of Lexaeus' new skill, "then how come we can't go in the ocean?"

"It's the afterlife," Zexion had responded with a chuckle. "You can do whatever you want here, so long as it is within reason."

"So what's wrong with taking a dip in the ocean?" Axel wanted to know.

"I think you would know better than anyone that the ocean is the gateway to the living world. And that there are strict rules protecting it."

Axel rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"By the way, whatever happened with that? Are you still in trouble for making contact with the living?"

Axel snorted. "I don't know. I think I have one strike left before I get sent to the darkness for good. Lucky I have Mischa, or I'd be there already."

"We all would," replied Zexion quietly. "She's given me – us – a second chance at a life. We must all be grateful to her for that."

"Yeah, well, obviously that's too much to ask of Xemnas and Saïx." Axel poured some more Tabasco sauce into his tea. Mischa always looked at him aghastly whenever he did this around her, but it has just always been his favorite. "Speaking of which, I've seen Saïx hanging around in the garden a lot lately. Any theories?"

"The garden? Perhaps he's going there to think."

"Maybe." Axel took a sip of his Tabasco-flavored tea. "I kind of find it hard to believe that he's out there just to smell the freesias, though. I mean, that's more of a Marluxia thing to do."

Zexion was quiet for a moment, considering this. He stood up suddenly from his perch on the couch and walked over to one of the large windows, his long black robes sweeping behind him. He gingerly lifted a section of curtain and beckoned Axel to come over.

"He's out there now," murmured Zexion, peering out the window. Zexion's room was a few floors above the expansive garden, but one could tell Saïx's shockingly blue hair anywhere.

"What's he looking at?" Axel asked, squinting.

Zexion pushed his reading glasses further down his nose. "The mountains, it looks like. In the distance."

"Wonder what's out there that he's so interested in?"

Zexion made a humorous noise that sounded like 'hmph.' "Now now, Axel. Let's not jump to conclusions based on one observation. Maybe he's simply enjoying the view. The mountains are rather spectacular."

"And maybe he's planning on using his heart to feed starving children," Axel retorted.

Zexion rolled his eyes. "I see your point. However, we can't come up with anything just based on him looking at the mountains." He turned and strode over to his bookcase. "I will do some research and report to you my findings." He picked an old-looking brown book and opened it up. "You're welcome to join me, if you wish."

Axel glanced at the door. "Actually, I'd better go see what Mischa's making for dinner." He walked over to the door, then stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob. "You can join us, if you want," he called over his shoulder.

Zexion looked up from his book, looking mildly surprised. "That sounds nice…perhaps I will."

Mischa slid onto the stool before the binoculars on the Discernment Deck. She exhaled -something she did every time she was here, to calm her nerves. Oftentimes she worried about what she might see after she inserted the coin.

Turning a coin over in her palm, she looked past the binoculars at the horizon. It occurred to her that it lacked something that horizons normally had: boats. She squinted. No leaping dolphins, either.

_Strange_, she thought. Turning her attention back to the binoculars, she flicked the coin into its slot. A few clinks later, the coin was settled in the bottom of the machine and Mischa pressed her eyes to the designated areas.

The first thing she saw when she focused was Marjorie. She was walking alone down a quiet road lined with trees on either side. The sun was near to setting, and so there was a rather orange glow on the world. Mischa zoomed in the binoculars so that she was on Marjorie's level, walking beside her.

Suddenly, Marjorie came to a stop and looked around. For a fleeting moment, Mischa's heart soared as she wondered if Marjorie could sense her presence. She reached out to touch her arm, to let her know that she was there, but was disappointed as she felt her hand grab hold of the cold wood of the Discernment Deck's protective fence. She felt around blindly, seeing her beloved cousin before her but feeling nothing but wood.

"I'm here, Marjorie," said Mischa pleadingly. "I'm right here. Look at me!"

She could feel concerned gazes of the other visitors of the Discernment Deck burning on her. She realized that her voice must be bordering on delirious. But at that moment, Marjorie turned in her direction and looked straight at her.

"Marjorie," she said softly. "I'm right here."

A look of confusion flashed across Marjorie's face, and then her eyes lit up with recognition.

"You can see me!" exclaimed Mischa, as Marjorie began walking towards her. She spread her arms out for a hug. But Marjorie did not stop walking.

Mischa whipped the binoculars around to follow her. Marjorie was headed towards a well-concealed gap between two tall bushes.

Two very, _very_ familiar bushes…

"The meadow," gasped Mischa, her heart constricting. "She found my meadow."

She watched numbly as Marjorie deftly squeezed through the tiny opening and stumbled into the meadow beyond. She shook herself and hurried forward, through the opening.

Marjorie was looking around in awe at the place. The small pond and waterfall, the pink cherry blossom tree, the yellow butterflies. She turned her head toward the sky and laughed.

"Mischa!" she shouted happily. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she replied faintly, thoroughly confused.

Marjorie ventured over to the cherry tree and sat down below its flowering branches. "Mischa, your mother told me that you liked this place. She didn't show it to me, but I saw her disappear into a couple of bushes one day. I had no idea this beautiful place was here!"

Mischa moved the binoculars closer to where Marjorie sat. She picked a blade of grass and bit her lip. "I wish you could hear me, Mischa. There's so much I want to talk to you about…"

Suddenly, there was a rustling sound from behind Mischa, where the entrance to the meadow was. Shock flashed across Marjorie's face, then happiness and a sort of suppressed longing.

A sick sensation crept over Mischa as she turned around. She had a feeling she knew exactly who would make Marjorie so happy but so afraid to show it…

Ryo stood at the edge of the bushes, dusting off his robes. He smiled sheepishly at Mischa, raising a hand awkwardly. Mischa started to return the gesture, but then realized that he wasn't waving at her – he was waving to Marjorie, and looking right through her.

"Ryo," said Marjorie weakly. She cleared her throat. "You followed me?"

He bowed his head in embarrassment. "I apologize. I saw you disappear into some bushes and I thought…well, I thought you may have been hurt."

Mischa glanced back and forth between the two as if she were watching a tennis match.

"That's very kind of you," said Marjorie, looking unconvinced. "But I'm fine."

Ryo nodded slowly, glancing around. "This is a beautiful place."

"Yes." Marjorie's lips pursed together. "Aunt Kiki told me that Mischa loved coming here."

Ryo laughed humorlessly. "Maybe this is why I never saw her."

"I came here because I thought I would feel closer to her," she said, ignoring his comment. "I've tried everything to be able to say something to her, just one word, anything. So I thought maybe she would hear me if I came here."

"But you cannot hear her response," remarked Ryo, one eyebrow raised. He was looking at her almost pitifully.

Marjorie shrugged. "I just…"

In a few strides, Ryo was standing in front of her. He kneeled down before her. "Marjorie, listen to me. Mischa is not coming back. You must let her go."

Marjorie violently bit her lip and tears squeezed out from the corners of her eyes.

"You will never be able to live your own life if you don't at least try to move on."

She drew in a rattled breath. "Do you think I should go home?"

"Back to America, you mean?" asked Ryo incredulously. "Of course not!"

"Then what should I do?" she asked pleadingly.

"Move on –" he took her hand in his –"with me."

Marjorie sniffled and looked up at him, her eyes glazed over with tears. "Wh-what?"

"Marjorie, your American ways have captivated me," he said, half laughing. "I feel that I am falling in love with you. I…I want to know if…if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife."

Mischa gasped. Marjorie's jaw fell slack. "You…you want me to marry you?"

Ryo nodded. "I have never felt so sure about something in my entire life."

"B-but," she sputtered, "but what about…what about Mischa?"

"Mischa is in a much better place now," he said patiently. "She is happy now. Don't you believe that Mischa would be very happy knowing that we are both happy, too?"

Marjorie gulped. "Yes, I suppose she would…"

"Mischa was a lovely young woman," said Ryo kindly. "I miss her, and I regret that things did not work out with her as far as marriage goes. But I truly believe that she is happy now, and I believe that my heart belongs with you, Marjorie."

A broken sound came from the back of Marjorie's throat. "I…yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes…I will marry you."

It was then that Mischa had to step back and return to her afterlife. She wasn't hurt – just surprised. She knew that it would be wrong for her to hold Marjorie back from attaining happiness, especially when she herself had found that happiness with Axel.

There had to be some way for Mischa to let Marjorie know that it was all right.

* * *

Author's Note: Shock! That was pretty fast of Ryo, wasn't it? Oh well, at least he's happy.

Chapter Song - "Turn Out The Light" by the New Amsterdams

BTW, i don't know if any of you have been looking at my profile page, but i put a note on there saying this: you know that thing they have on Itunes now, called Ping? well, i made soundtracks to Miss Melancholy and Miss Macabre on there, basically featuring all the songs I use in them. the name is under "Nikki M." if you're interested :)


	11. Need You

Author's Note: I am a terrible updater...my excuse right now is that I am a newly minted college freshman with a lot on my plate. Lame, I know.

* * *

"This is delicious, Mischa," said Zexion, holding a forkful of spinach in midair as a sort of toast.

He was referring to the spinach salad glazed with a sweet almond sauce and littered with sautéed shrimp that Mischa had prepared for dinner this evening. After witnessing her cousin Marjorie being proposed to in her meadow by her ex-fiance, Mischa had been overcome with feelings toward her life back on Earth and had decided to prepare a dish that reminded her of her former home. As the first taste of the salad reached her tongue, Mischa remembered the last time she had prepared this meal: for a dinner party she had hosted for some neighbors when she still believed that her parents were dead.

Of course, she knew much better now. She had chewed thoughtfully and wondered whether her parents were still friendly with the Tanshos and the Asagis. They had been very kind to her in her time of loneliness. Then again, Mischa's parents – and the rest of the townfolk – were completely unaware that they had ever been absent in the first place. She had wondered how much of that time was real, and how much was simply an illusion branded into her brain.

Then she had looked at Axel entering their room in the Castle That Somewhat Is, sniffing hungrily at the shrimp-y aroma wafting from the pan on the stove, and realized that at least some of it had to have been real.

"Thank you!" she replied happily. "It's a dish my mother taught me how to make."

Axel and Zexion exchanged a quick, discreet glance. "Have you, er, seen your mother lately?" asked Zexion awkwardly.

"Through the binoculars, you mean."

"Of course."

She shook her head. "Not since my funeral."

Axel grimaced, but Mischa did not seem to notice.

"Something interesting happened today, though," she went on.

"In Yoroido?" Axel wanted to know.

"Yes," she replied carefully. Zexion looked at her interestedly. "My cousin Marjorie got engaged."

Axel brightened, glad that it was nothing that would upset Mischa and make her want to go home. "That's great! I don't think I've met her."

"She lived with her family in America. She was the daughter of my father's brother."

Axel nodded. "That would explain it." By Zexion's raised eyebrow, he realized that he was not the only one who had picked up on Mischa's use of the word _lived_. "So you were watching her over in America, then."

Mischa shook her head. "No, she's staying in Yoroido now, in my old bedroom. Helping my parents." She twirled a leaf of spinach around her plate with her fork as Axel and Zexion looked on in shock. "She got engaged to Ryo Fukuda."

"Ryo?" Zexion was at once alert to the familiar name. "Your fiancé, Ryo?" He had helped Mischa escape the wedding to this man.

"Former," interjected Axel crossly.

"My former fiancé, yes," replied Mischa coolly. "He asked her in the meadow." She gave Axel a meaningful glance.

"Our meadow," he guessed.

"She said that she went there in order to talk to me. I guess the meadow is some sort of hot-spot for inter-world communication." She shrugged. "But she couldn't hear me when I tried to talk to her."

"Is this the first time she has tried to make contact with you?" inquired Zexion, trying not to look at Axel, who had suddenly developed a strong interest in his salad.

"As far as I know, yes," replied Mischa nonchalantly. "I don't know of any way to make contact with her."

"There isn't," said Axel quickly. Too quickly. Mischa looked at him suspiciously.

"How do you know?" she asked. Zexion watched him in amazed awe.

Axel shrugged, quickly recovering. "Just a rumor."

Mischa and Zexion watched him for a moment, waiting for more, but he just shoveled more salad into his awaiting mouth.

"A rumor, then." Mischa nodded and returned to her salad.

There was a brief silence, interrupted only by the scraping of silverware. Having to hear about Ryo, and be reminded of the part he played in Mischa's life, had awakened what seemed to be a sleeping green monster inside Axel's chest. He glanced at Mischa's delicate white hand grasping her fork and bile rose into his mouth as he imagined _that man_ holding it, while he, Axel, had been here, helplessly watching through the binoculars, yearning to be the one who could hold that hand. Anger boiled over inside of him at the sight in his mind's eye, and, staring down at his salad, he spoke before he could stop himself.

"Sounds like Marjorie's trying to replace you," he muttered; but Mischa did not reply. When he looked up to see if she had heard, he saw that there were tears in her eyes. She dropped her fork, and the loud clink! of metal on china broke Axel out of his reverie.

"It does, doesn't it?" she asked absently. From her eyes, Axel could tell that he had just voiced her fear. "I was wrong to leave my parents all alone…"

"No, you weren't," said Axel firmly, gaining strength from Zexion's doleful shaking of his head on the other side of the table. They had come this far – he was not going to let a memory ruin what he was finally able to have with Mischa. "What was meant to happen happened, that's all there is to it."

Mischa bit her lip. "Ryo had warned against going into the city…there was a terrible pandemic going on, you see. He was afraid I would catch it…and I did."

Axel and Zexion tried very hard to avoid each other's gazes.

"Do you know what the worst part is?" asked Mischa of no one in particular, her chin quivering. "I wished for it to kill me. I _asked_ for it. _I wanted to die._"

"Then someone must have been listening," said Zexion cryptically. Axel shot him a look before jumping out of his chair and rushing to Mischa's side.

"Hey, now," he cooed, kneeling on the floor next to her chair and stroking her hair as she buried her face in her hands. "You're happier now than you were on Earth, aren't you?"

Mischa started to nod but then stopped. She lifted her head and turned towards him to speak, and Axel saw that her eyes were already bloodshot. Whether they had been like that for a while, he couldn't remember noticing.

"I need you to understand," she replied softly.

* * *

"I cannot believe that you still haven't told her."

Zexion was pacing back and forth in front of a dejected-looking Axel, who had not moved from his seat at the kitchen table. Mischa had recently vacated the room, claiming that she needed some fresh air.

"She…she never asked," replied Axel defensively. Zexion fixated him with such a murderous glare that he recoiled as if he had slapped him.

"She has a right to know what really happened," said Zexion, his teeth clenched.

"But if I tell her that now, while she's like this – " Axel gestured helplessly towards the door, where Mischa had disappeared moments ago " – it'll make her want to go home even more."

"Axel." Zexion was looking down at him as though he was really seeing him for the first time. "I told you before. This is not about you and your desire to keep her around. If she wants to return to her home on Earth, then it is her rightful decision to do so and you will not be able to stop her." He paced to the right and stopped, looking back at Axel over his shoulder. "I thought you knew what you were doing when you came to me for help."

"I did!" protested Axel. "She said to me, 'There must be some way that I can be with you;' something along those lines. She wanted this – she practically asked for it!"

Zexion did not answer; he had suddenly become lost in thought. When he turned back around to face Axel, his voice was deadly quiet. "What happened to the letter from Mischa's cousin?"

Instinctively, protectively, Axel's hand jerked toward the upper left side of his cloak for a split second. Zexion's expression hardened.

"You haven't given it to her yet." It was not a question.

"I've been keeping it safe from Saïx," bleated Axel.

Zexion bit his lip to stop himself from retorting and exhaled slowly through his nose. "I suppose that's one good thing."

"I think, right now, it's more important to stop whatever Xemnas and Saix are planning," said Axel.

"Yes." Zexion was torn: between what he thought was right, and what was most important.

"She asked to come here," Axel reminded him, glad that he had calmed down.

Zexion nodded slowly. "As you say. But she didn't ask to fall in love with a Nobody."

* * *

Xemnas stood in the large entrance hall of the Castle That Somewhat Is, watching for signs of movement from the hallway beyond. He was to meet Saix here at half-past four, but the latter had yet to arrive.

Xemnas let out a great sigh. The moment was drawing nearer; the moment his plan would come to fruition. With a flicker of impatience, he wondered why he was even bothering to share his plan with Saix, since he clearly did not find it necessary to make himself available at all times of the day. It was not as if he could not carry it through without Saix; on the contrary, Saix played a very small role in the plan. Perhaps Xemnas simply wished to have a partner in crime to help out here and there.

Though, Xemnas certainly did not view his plan as a crime. A crime against nature, one could argue; but after all their hard work and dedication, did he not owe it to the Organization to provide them with full, meaningful human lives? This, he convinced himself, was the true nature of his plan.

He turned to look at the main door. The door that was on the Castle That Never Was back on Earth was more of a formality; the Organization simply harnessed the power of darkness to warp from place to place. Now, however, since the darkness cannot be freely reached from the afterlife, one had to go about using actual doors to get around the Castle. It was all quite frustrating to Xemnas, having to continuously be so inconvenienced; and thus made him all the more eager to begin carrying out his plan.

At last, the sound of footsteps echoed off the high ceiling and walls as Saix entered the hall.

"Superior!"

Xemnas turned to greet him, but he turned to see a most peculiar sight: Zexion was descending the grand staircase toward him, a happily surprised look on his face.

"Zexion, my slippery friend!" he said, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace him. "I haven't seen you in ages! Where have you been hiding?"

Zexion chuckled. "I've been spending my spare time doing what I do best, of course."

"Not scheming, I hope," said Xemnas with mock reprimand.

Zexion's good-natured smile stayed plastered on his face. "Of course not, Superior! Who would dream of such a thing?" He glanced at the unopened door behind Xemnas. "Going for a post-dinner stroll?"

Xemnas waved his hand in dismissal. "Ah, you know, the same old routine."

"Oh, now, Superior, don't go telling me that you're growing bored of our life here?"

Xemnas flexed his hand. Zexion had come a little too close to the truth. "Heavens, no! I have nothing but gratitude for the life we now live. After all, how could one feel boredom when he can finally feel excitement?"

At that moment, a door opened somewhere on the left of the entrance hall. Zexion's smile thinned as Saix entered the room at a breakneck pace.

Saix halted at the sight of Zexion. Xemnas silently cursed him for choosing to finally appear at this most inopportune of moments.

"Saix," said Zexion with a hint of dislike behind his pleasantly masked tone. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Saix smiled. He looked a little kinder without the ominous 'X' on his face, but not much. "I haven't seen you around lately, comrade. Sticking your nose in books all day long?"

"To say the least," he replied nonchalantly. He turned brightly to Xemnas. "Well, Superior, I was just passing through, so you'll have to excuse me. Good day to you both!"

He then proceeded to wrench open the main door and make his way outside. Xemnas turned to Saix.

"That was too close, my friend," he said quietly. "We will have to meet in a more discreet location next time."

"I think he's onto us," said Saix darkly.

Xemnas shrugged. "Even if he is, they will all know soon enough." He gestured to the main door. "Shall we make our exit? I have something to show you."

* * *

King Mickey steered the Gummi Ship expertly through the atmosphere of Disney Castle and into the black night sky. Worlds zoomed past him like streaks of light as he sped in search of the Japanese island planet of Yoroido.

He rubbed his pointer finger and thumb together numbly, lost in thought, as he deftly maneuvered the steering wheel with indifference. He could easily have harnessed the power of darkness to teleport to Yoroido, but he did not wish to open the dark portal in that world as of yet. It was too difficult to close up the first time, and he did not yet know what will be happening.

Soon, he came upon the world and descended quickly onto a barren cliff on the ocean's edge. He grabbed his Keyblade and punched the door release button, then exited the ship.

The cliff on which he had landed was not too far away from the main beach; he could see people in the distance. It suddenly occurred to him that he may not be invisible; but he strongly doubted that any regular person could see him. Perhaps the girl could, if he could find her…

After walking along the beach, he found himself facing a somewhat large cottage on the town's edge. He knew that the girl's house was the first from the beach, he thought as small children trotted past him carrying water toys and small wooden buckets, so perhaps this was it. Easier than he had expected…

He stepped onto the road and made his way over to the house, stepping on dried cherry blossom flowers that had fallen from the pink tree in the small front yard. There appeared to be someone home. He crept along the stone pathway that lead to the front door, suddenly fearful of being seen. Though, the only one who could even have a chance of seeing him was the girl.

There were voices inside. A window was open; he leapt through it and landed silently on the wooden floor of the house, Keyblade still in hand. A man and a woman were seated at the low table, looking as if they were drinking tea. Neither one stirred at his sudden entrance.

In a distant hallway, Mickey's heart lept at the sight of a painting hanging on the wall. It depicted a beautiful young girl with startling blue eyes and coffee-brown hair. The girl he had been looking for!

Then he noticed the traditional Shinto death shrine underneath. His heart sank as quickly as it had risen, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. If the girl was deceased, then so were all hopes of knowing what was going to happen. There was a chance that she could be among the Organization, given her ties to Axel. If they were using her to make a return to the living…

"Oh boy," said Mickey with a gulp.

* * *

Author's Note: Yayyy more drama! I've sort of been thinking lately of turning this series into a trilogy; I don't normally like those, though, simply because the last book always seems rushed...but it's an idea I'm entertaining. Feedback appreciated!

Chapter song: "Need You" by Travie McCoy


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